We tells him we is from the North.

He lights his cigar like he didn't think much of that cigar and sticks it in his mouth and looks at us so long in an absent-minded kind of way it goes out.
Then he says we orter go back North.
"Why ?" asts the doctor.
He chewed his cigar purty nigh up to the middle of it before he answered, and when he spoke it was a soft kind of a drawl--not mad or loud--but like they was sorrowful thoughts working in him.
"Yo' all done struck the wo'st paht o' the South to peddle yo' niggah medicine in, sah.

I reckon yo' must love 'em a heap to be that concerned over the colour of their skins." And he turned his back on us and went into the back room all by himself.
We seen we was in wrong in that town.

The doctor says it will be no use trying to interduce our stuff there, and we might as well leave there in the morning and go over to Bairdstown, which was a little place about ten miles off the railroad, and make our start there.
So we got a rig the next morning and drove acrost the country.

No one bid us good-bye, neither, and Doctor Kirby says it's a wonder they rented us the rig.
But before we started that morning we noticed a funny thing.