10 IN THE FLAT-WOODS. 
I admitted meekly that they were. 
“ You are English, ain’t you?” he went on. 
“You are English, — Yankee born, — ain’t 
mee 
I owned it. 
“ Well, I’m Spanish. That ain’t Minor- 
ean. My grandfather was a , and com- 
manded St. Augustine. He could n’t have 
done that if he had been Minorcan.” 
By this time he was quieting down a bit. 
His father remembered the Indian war. 
The son had heard him tell about it. 
“Those were dangerous times,” he re- 
marked. ‘You couldn’t have been stand- 
ing out here in the woods then.” 
‘¢ There is no danger here now, is there?” 
said I. 
‘No, no, not now.” But as he drove 
along he turned to say that he was n’t afraid 
of any thing; he wasn’t that kind of a man. 
Then, with a final turn, he added, what I 
could not dispute, “A man’s life is always 
in danger.” 
After he was gone, I regretted that I had 
offered no apology for my unintentionally 
offensive question; but I was so taken by 
surprise, and so much interested in the man 
