“Tell ’bout it, Rufe,” said the tanner, suppressing all appearance of excitement.
“Ye ain’t goin’ ter do nuthin’ ter Pig-wigs fur foolin’ with yer pit, ef I tell ye?” asked Rufe, quickly.
“Naw, bub, naw. Which Griggs do ye call ‘Pig-wigs?’”
“Why -
Pig-wigs
,” Rufe reiterated obviously.
Then he explained. “He air Nate’s nevy. He air Nate’s oldest brother’s biggest boy, - though he ain’t sizable much. He air ’bout haffen ez big ez me - ef that,” he added reflectively, thinking that even thus divided he had represented Pig-wigs as more massive than the facts justified.
“Ye see,” he continued, “one day when his uncle Tim war over hyar ter the tanyard, I gin him one o’ my game deedies; an’ ez soon ez he got home he showed ’em all that thar deedie - powerful, spryest poultry ye ever see!”
Rufe smiled ecstatically as only a chicken fancier can.
“An’ Pig-wigs war plumb