If they behaved themselves, they wouldn't." "That is to say, the Lord made 'em men, and it's a hard squeeze gettin 'em down into beasts," said the drover, dryly.
"Bright niggers isn't no kind of 'vantage to their masters," continued the other, well entrenched, in a coarse, unconscious obtuseness, from the contempt of his opponent; "what's the use o' talents and them things, if you can't get the use on 'em yourself?
Why, all the use they make on 't is to get round you.

I've had one or two of these fellers, and I jest sold 'em down river.

I knew I'd got to lose 'em, first or last, if I didn't." "Better send orders up to the Lord, to make you a set, and leave out their souls entirely," said the drover.
Here the conversation was interrupted by the approach of a small one-horse buggy to the inn.

It had a genteel appearance, and a well-dressed, gentlemanly man sat on the seat, with a colored servant driving.
The whole party examined the new comer with the interest with which a set of loafers in a rainy day usually examine every newcomer.

He was very tall, with a dark, Spanish complexion, fine, expressive black eyes, and close-curling hair, also of a glossy blackness.