“Batten and Bill found out I wasn’t a ghost,” says I.
“Purty lucky they did,” says he.
“You wouldn’t ’a’ thought so if they’d been chasin’ you,” I told him; and he wouldn’t, neither.
“It was opportunity,” he says. “I’ve heard tell of lots of opportunities, but I never seen one that come in so h-h-handy.” It took him half a minute to get out the last word.
“Zadok Biggs said somethin’ like that. I met him a piece down the road, or I’d never have got back.”
“I wouldn’t ’a’ come rampin’ through that marsh like you did for a farm,” says he.
“You’d ’a’ sunk in so deep it would ’a’ taken two teams of horses to drag you out,” says I. “How’d you manage to git the engine out of the house?”
Then he told me all about it like I’ve told you at the beginning of this chapter, and that was the first I knew about just what had happened.
It wasn’t comfortable perching on stumps with our feet hauled up, but we were a lot easier in our minds that way, especially as we kept hearing things fussing around in the grass.
“There goes one rattlin’ off there,” I says; and I pulled my feet up farther and gripped my club.