Uncollected Stories of William Faulkner by William Faulkner Page A

rope,”the lieutenant read. “Got them? … A hundred and ten mules. It says from Philadelphia—that’s in Mississippi. Get these Mississippi mules. They are to have rope and halters.”
    “We ain’t got a hundred and ten Mississippi mules,” the sergeant said.
    “Get what we have got. Hurry.” He turned to Granny. “And there are your niggers, madam.”
    Granny was looking at him with her eyes wide as Ringo’s. She was drawn back a little, with her hand at her chest. “But they’re not—they ain’t—” she said.
    “They ain’t all yours?” the lieutenant said. “I know it. The general said to give you another hundred with his compliments.”
    “But that ain’t—We didn’t—” Granny said.
    “She wants the house back, too,” the sergeant said. “We ain’t got any houses, grandma,” he said. “You’ll just have to make out with trunks and niggers and mules. You wouldn’t have room for it on the wagon, anyway.”
    We sat there while they loaded the ten trunks into the wagon. It just did hold them all. They got another set of trees and harness, and hitched four mules to it. “One of you darkies that can handle two span come here,” the lieutenant said. One of the niggers came and got on the seat with Granny; none of us had ever seen him before. Behind us they were leading the mules out of the pen.
    “You want to let some of the women ride?” the lieutenant said.
    “Yes,” Granny whispered.
    “Come on,” the lieutenant said. “Just one to a mule, now.” Then he handed me the paper. “Here you are. There’s a ford about twenty miles up the river; you can cross there. You better get on away from here before any more of these niggers decide to go with you.”
    We rode until daylight, with the ten chests in the wagon and the mules and our army of niggers behind. Granny had not moved, sitting there beside the strange nigger with Mrs. Compson’s hat on and the parasol in her hand. But she was not asleep, because when it got light enough to see, she said, “Stop the wagon.” The wagon stopped. She turned and looked at me. “Let me see that paper,” she said.
    We opened the paper and looked at it, at the neat writing:
    Field Headquarters,
    —th Army Corps,
    Department of Tennessee,
    August 14, 1864.
    To all Brigade, Regimental and Other Commanders:
You will see that bearer is repossessed in full of the following property, to wit: Ten (10) chests tied with hemp rope and containing silver. One hundred ten (110) mules captured loose near Philadelphia in Mississippi. One hundred ten (110) Negroes of both sexes belonging to and having strayed from the same locality.
    You will further see that bearer is supplied with necessary food and forage to expedite his passage to his destination.
    By order of the General Commanding.
    We looked at one another in the gray light. “I reckon you gonter take um back now,” Ringo said.
    Granny looked at me. “We can get food and fodder too,” I said.
    “Yes,” Granny said. “I tried to tell them better. You and Ringo heard me. It’s the hand of God.”
    We stopped and slept until noon. That afternoon we came to the ford. We had already started down the bluff when we saw the troop of cavalry camped there. It was too late to stop.
    “They done found hit out and headed us off,” Ringo said. It was too late; already an officer and two men were riding toward us.
    “I will tell them the truth,” Granny said. “We have done nothing.” She sat there, drawn back a little again, with her hand already raised and holding the paper out in the other when they rode up. The officer was a heavy-built man with a red face; he looked at us and took the paper and read it and began to swear. He sat there on his horse swearing while we watched him.
    “How many do you lack?” he said.
    “How many do I what?” Granny said.
    “Mules!” the officer hollered. “Mules! Mules! Do I look like I had any chests of silver or niggers tied with hemp rope?”
    “Do