their
living by catching codfish and herring, and by making things, such as
shoes for the niggers, and cloth and axes and machinery and--Oh,
everything. And the blacks couldn't do that sort of work so that their
owners could make anything out of them, and that's the reason they let
them go free."

"And because they can't use the niggers do they say that we-uns musn't
use 'em nuther?" demanded Jeff, angrily.

"That's it exactly," said Rodney. "They are dogs in the manger. They
can't eat the hay themselves and they won't let the critters eat it."

Although the wood-choppers didn't quite understand this, it was plain
enough to the Barrington boy that they were impressed by his words.

"And what are we-uns going to do about it?" inquired Jeff, after a
little pause.

"We're going to dissolve partnership with them--break up the firm and go
into business for ourselves," replied Rodney, throwing so much
enthusiasm into his words that he succeeded in creating some excitement
among the wood-choppers. One, in particular, was so deeply interested
that he pulled his nail keg close in front of the speaker; but whether
he was listening to his words, or making a mental calculation of the
value of his gold watch chain, Rodney did not think to inquire.

"And do they say that we-uns mustn't do it?" Jeff demanded.

"You've hit it again," was Rodney's reply. "That is just what they do
say; and they say, further, that they won't give us our share of the
goods. See how they hung on to that fort in Charleston Harbor until our
gallant fellows made them give it up? That fort belonged to South
Carolina; but when she broke up the firm, by which I mean the Union, the
Yanks wouldn't give it up. Who ever heard of such impudence?"

"I never," answered Jeff. "We did lick 'em sure enough, didn't we?"

"Of course we did, and that isn't the worst of it. We're going to whip
them as often as we get a chance at them. But what am I talking about.
The Yankees won't fight."

"Didn't they have a sorter rucus up in St. Louis?"

"Those were not Yankees. They were Dutchmen--old country soldiers, who
don't know enough about war to keep them from shooting into their own
men. Who's afraid of such soldiers?"

"We're mighty glad you stopped off here, stranger," said Jeff, at
length. "We didn't rightly know what all the furse was about, and there
wasn't nobody who could tell us, because the steamboat cap'ns who come
here for wood couldn't wait to talk about