Whereupon Mr.Slosson's male domestic indulged in certain strange antics that were not rightly any part of woodchopping.

This yet further repelled Hannibal.
"The disgustin' chattel!" he muttered under his breath, quoting his Uncle Bob, with whom, in theory at least, race feeling was strong.

Yancy appeared at the door of the bar and called to him, and as the boy slid from the fence and ran toward him across the yard, the Scratch Hiller sauntered forth to meet him.
"I reckon it's all right, Nevvy," he said, "but we don't know nothing about this here Captain Murrell--as he calls himself--though he seems a right clever sort of gentleman; but we won't mention Belle Plain." With this caution he led the way into the tavern and back through the bar to a low-ceilinged room where Murrell and Slosson were already at table.

It was intolerably hot, and there lingered in the heavy atmosphere of the place stale and unappetizing odors.

Only Murrell attempted conversation and he was not encouraged; and presently silence fell on the room except for the rattle of dishes and the buzzing of flies.