"He thought the silk stockings was goin to give
right in as sweet as sugar. Not by a darned sight. No sir. They ain't
going to let go so easy. They ain't none o' that sort. They mean to
have the old times back again, and they'll have em back, too, unless
you wake up and show em you're in earnest."
"Not yit awhile, by the everlastin Jocks," shouted Abner. "Ef thar's
any vartue in gunpowder them times shan't come back," and there was an
answering yell that shook the room.
"That's the talk, Abner. Give us yer paw," said Paul, delighted to
find the people working up to his own pitch of bitter and unrelenting
animosity against the gentlemen. "That's the talk, but it'll take
more'n talk. Look here men, three out of four of you have done enough
already to get a dozen lashes on his bare back, if the silk stockings
get on top again. It's all in a nutshell. If we don't keep them under
they'll keep us under. We've just got to take hold and raise the devil
with them. If we don't give them the devil, they'll give us the devil.
Take your choice. It's one or the other."
There was a chorus of exclamations.
"That's so." "By gosh we're in for't, an we might's well go ahead."
"Ye're right, Paul.
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