THE "painter" in THE PIG PEN. 329 



by supplying the garrison with game, and the officers, in 

 uniforms that the swamps had left no longer uniform or 

 neat. Names well known in the Florida wars were called 

 and answered to. There were Primus and Gopher John, 

 the Indian scouts, and Holatter Mico, the royal chief, 

 and Vose and Wilcoxson, officers, and Mike, Potter, and 

 a score of others whose local fame then ran as high as 

 Marechals of France, though in a narrower sphere and 

 for a shorter term. 



There were drinks of government w^hisky, and smokes 

 from pipes shorter and blacker than a Killarney man 

 could fix in his hat-band, and Irish jokes, and yarns of 

 monstrous length, that were roughly criticised or excelled 

 by some other more incredulous still. 



Potter gave us one. Seated astride of an empty bar- 

 rel, with his rifle across his knees, his buckskm cap 

 pushed back on his head, his blue flannel shirt-collar 

 rolled back, exposing a breast as broad and shaggy as a 

 bear's, he told us the following story with gesticulations 

 and amid peals of laughter : 



" Wall, you see how it was. Squire, is this." 



The speaker took a long pull at his pipe, gave a hitch 

 to his suspenders, and then, ejecting the dense smoke in 

 volumes through his nostrils, commenced his narration. 



" I was living that year on the coast, purty nigh St. 

 Augustine. It was late in the year and the night Avas on- 

 common dark — wall, it was — and the wind roared ugly. 

 Yer could hear the trees smashin' up in the Avoods every 

 five minits when it buckled to a little extry, and when 



