“He—uh—he snuck in by hisself. I was out into the road. He was into the house—all to oncet he give a yell an’ he come a-runnin’. He never said nawthin’—he was a-fussin’, like, into his throat, a-groanin’ an’ a-grumblin’—an awful kind of a noise! He come a-tearin’ right by me an’ went kersmash into the bresh, an’ I hearn him a-thrashin’ round into the dark, an’ then I didn’t hear him no more. An’ I was scairt—I run right up the road an’ put for home. That’s Gawd’s truth, fellers. I dunno what got him—’less’n ’twas Jake’s ha’nt.”
His head was up now, and he looked into the faces of the others as if telling the truth—or part of the truth. Ward regarded him silently, perhaps deciding to let the Oaks matter rest. Then Douglas shot a sudden question.
“What did you have against Jake?”
Snake’s jaw dropped. He stared as if a ghost had risen from the floor. Bill and Ward looked mystified, but watched him keenly. From Steve sounded a low grunt, as if he partly understood and wholly approved the question. Marion, a rapt witness of the proceedings, stood awaiting the answer though not comprehending the purport of the demand.
“I—uh—me an’ Jake—we didn’t have no trouble,” stuttered Snake. “What ye mean? We was good friends——”
“Ye lie!” broke in Steve. “Ye said Jake stole yer licker, an’ if he done it ag’in ye’d git him! I hearn ye an’ Jake a-rowin’ ’bout it one time up into the rocks—before I got sent away. Ye told him if he stole ’nother jug o’ yourn he’d find snakes into it!”
“Aha!” Douglas pounced on the revelation. “And he did steal another, eh? Did he? Quick, now!”
The vicious face reddened with quick anger.
“Yas, he did! He done it more’n oncet—the fat hawg-bellied fool!—he’d steal every time he got a chance. He was too lousy lazy to make his own——”
“And so you chopped off a rattler’s rattle and put the snake in here! Didn’t you? Hurry up!”