It was direct and wonderfully convincing.

The boy recognized at once a mind that would steer straight through things toward its goal.
"My name is Harry Kenton," he said politely.

"I'm from Kentucky, and my father used to be a colonel in the army." "Mine," said the mountaineer, "is Nat Forrest, Nathan Bedford Forrest for full and long.

I'm a trader in live stock, an' I thought I'd look in here at Nashville an' see what the smart folks was doin'.

I'd tell 'em not to let Tennessee go out of the Union, but they wouldn't pay any 'tention to a hoss-tradin' mountaineer, who his neighbors say can't write his name." "I'm glad to meet you, Mr.Forrest," said Harry, "but I'm afraid we're on different sides of the question." "Mebbe we are 'til things come to a head," said the mountaineer, laughing, "but, as I said, if Tennessee goes out, I reckon I'll go with her.