I'm jest an innercent charcoal burner, 'bout the most innercent that ever lived, I guess, but atween you an' me, Johnny Reb, my feelin's lean the way my state, Old Virginny, leans, that is, to the South, which I reckon is lucky fur you." Harry saw that the man had blue eyes and he saw, too, that they were twinkling.

He knew with infallible instinct that he was honest and truthful.
"It's true," he said.

"I'm a Southern soldier, and I'm in your hands." "I see that you trust me, an' I think I kin trust you.

Jest you wait 'til I put that hoss o' yourn in the lean-to behind the cabin." He darted out of the door and returned in a minute shaking the water from his body.
"That hoss feels better already," he said, "an' you will, too, soon.
Now, I shet this door, then I kindle up the fire ag'in, then you take off your clothes an' put them an' yo'self afore the blaze.

In time you an' your clothes are all dry." The man's manner was all kindness, and the poor little cabin had become a palace.