He turned into the road, but a second thought made him look back.
“See here”; Colonel Ledbetter went to him.
“That thar line fence that Higgins has been a-snarlin’ ’bout for twenty year—he says it b’longs on my side the branch. It was on yon side when the property come into my hands but, ’cordin’ to the records over to the cou’t-house, looks like there’s a chance of him bein’ in the right of it. And I’m like you and Grover Cleveland, Jake; I don’t want nothin’ ’tain’t mine. I don’t reckon Higgins’ll have anything to say to me, but if you’re a mind to go over and talk to him ’bout it, we’ll have it straightened out. G’long.”
Over the hill he went, jerked Sal to a stand in front of Mis’ Jimson’s log-cabin, clambered out of the wagon, and began to untie the cow. The old woman came limping down the walk with surprise but no welcome in her face.
“Where’ll you have her?” he asked with his eyes on his fingers.
“Whatever do you mean, Sam Sumter?”
“Mis’ Jimson, you ’lowed I’d put my brand onto the ears of your calf. This ’ere creeter run with mine up on the mounting the whole season and when they brought my cattle down she was with ’em; but if you say she’s yours——”
“She is mine, I know her by the shape of the white blanket on her back. ’Tain’t hard to know your own when one is all you’ve got.”
“Here she is,” he opened the gate, put the animal into the yard and had regained his seat before she recovered her speech.
“How’s all the folks, Cap’n Sumter?”