"That is my name," assented the newcomer, once more astonished. "But I didn't realize I'd told it yet."
With an outright scorn for subterfuge the older man replied, "I reckon thar hain't no profit in a-beatin' ther devil round ther stump. You've heered my voice afore—an' I've seed yore face. Ye tole me yore name back thar—in ther la'rel, didn't ye?"
Henderson bowed. "I did recognize your voice, but I didn't aim to speak of it—unless you did."
"When I says that I trusts a man," the moonshiner spoke with an unambiguous quietness of force, "I means what I says an' takes my chances accordin'. Ef a man betrays my confidence—" he paused just an instant then added pointedly—"he takes his chances. What did ye 'low yore business war, hyarabouts, Mr. Henderson?"
"I mean to explain that to you in due time, Mr. Stacy, but just now it takes fewer words to say what's not my business."
"Wall then, what hain't yore business?"
"Other people's business."
"Wa'al so far as hit goes thet's straight talk. I favors outright speech myself an' ye don't seem none mealy-mouthed. Ye talks right fer yoreself—like a mountain man."
"You see," said Henderson calmly, "I am a mountain man even if I've dwelt down below for some years."
"You—a mountain man?" echoed the bearded giant in bewilderment and the visitor nodded.