'They 'lowed so. I hopes they'll prove it by thar works,' he said, without enthusiasm.
'Ye war a-prayin' fur 'em on the bald?' she asked, apprehending that he accounted these converts peculiarly precarious.
'Naw,' he replied, with moody sincerity; 'I war a-prayin' fur myself.'
There was another pause, longer and more awkward than before.
'What work be you-uns a-doin' of?' asked Dorinda timidly. She quailed a trifle before the uncomprehended light in his eyes. It was not of her world, she felt instinctively.
'I hev ploughed some, holpin' Jonas Trice, an' hev been a-hauling wood. I tuk my rifle along,' he added, 'thinkin' I mought see suthin' ez would be tasty fur the old men's supper ez I kem home, but I forgot ter look around keen.'
There was a sudden sound along the road—a sound of quick hoof-beats. Because of the deep sand the rider was close at hand before his approach was discovered. He drew rein abruptly, and they saw that it was Gid Fletcher, the blacksmith of the Settlement.
'Hev you-uns hearn the news?' he cried excitedly, as he threw himself from the saddle.
The man, leaning on the rifle, looked up, with no question in his eyes. There was an almost monastic indifference to the world suggested in his manner.
'Thar's a mighty disturbamint at the Settlemint. Las' night this hyar Rick Tyler—what air under indictment fur a-killin' o' Joel Byers—he kem a-nosin' 'roun' the Settlemint a-tryin' ter buy powder——'