“Bound to,” he said, gravely. “Got it all figgered out. Says suthin’ in the Bible about the Lord ’u’d rather herd in one sinner to heaven than ninety-nine righteous fellers, don’t it? Wa-al, I’m the sinner he was calc’latin’ on. When he goes to herd me in, I hain’t goin’ to put up no resistance whatever. Yas ’m I’m safe to pass them pearly gates on the run.”
“Tubal, do you ever drink?”
“Frequent—but not too frequent.”
“Where do you get it?”
“Um!... Now there’s a question, Lady. Now hain’t it? Want a feller to do me a favor like gittin’ liquor fer me in a dry and thirsty land, and then fer me to go ’n’ tattle on him? Uh-uh, Lady. Can’t be did.”
“But you’re loyal to me, aren’t you, Tubal?”
“Lady, seems like I’d come clost to lettin’ wild hosses tromple onto me fer you.”
“Then why not help me when I’m trying to find out about this liquor business?”
“Best help I kin give ye is to warn you to leave it alone. Churchill, he meddled with it.”
“I’m going to find out who killed him.”