"Yes, they talk an' talk," said the man, biting his words, "an' they do
nothin'."

"You think they ought to take Tennessee out right away?"

"No, I'm ag'in it. I don't want to bust up this here Union. But I
reckon Tennessee is goin' out, an' most all the other Southern states
will go out, too. I 'low the South will get whipped like all tarnation,
but if she does I'm a Southerner myself, an' I'll have to git whipped
along with her. But talkin' don't do no good fur nobody. If the South
goes out, it's hittin' that'll count, an' them that hits fastest,
hardest, truest an' longest will win."

The man was rough in appearance and illiterate in speech, but his
manner impressed Harry in an extraordinary manner. It was direct and
wonderfully convincing. The boy recognized at once a mind that would
steer straight through things toward its goal.

"My name is Harry Kenton," he said politely. "I'm from Kentucky,
and my father used to be a colonel in the army."

"Mine," said the mountaineer, "is Nat Forrest, Nathan Bedford Forrest
for full and long. I'm a trader in live stock, an' I thought I'd look
in here at Nashville an' see what the smart folks was doin'. I'd tell
'em not to let Tennessee go out of the Union, but they wouldn't pay any
'tention to a hoss-tradin' mountaineer, who his neighbors say can't
write his name."

"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Forrest," said Harry, "but I'm afraid we're