I could not stand this--the poor harmless old coot!--and I ran up and struck McGill's arm.
"What in hell," he yelled, for some of the tar went on him, "do you mean!" "Don't tar and feather 'em," I begged.

"I know these folks.

They are a poor wandering family, without money enough to buy land away from any one." "We jist thought we'd kind o' settle down," said Old Man Fewkes whimperingly; "and I've got the money promised me to buy this land.

So it's all right and straight!" The silly old leatherhead didn't know he was doing anything against public sentiment; and told the very thing that made a case against him.
I have found out since who the man was that promised him the money and was going to take the land; but that was just one circumstance in the land craze, and the man himself was wounded at Fort Donelson, and died in hospital--so I won't tell his name.

The point is, that the old man had turned the jury against me just as I had finished my plea.
"You have got the money promised you, have you ?" repeated McGill.