"You blamed fool, how's he comin' to the schoolhouse less'n you tell 'im!"
The simple-minded giant was greatly perplexed at this. He drew out his bottle and took another drink, then mechanically passed it to Tom.
"Well," this schemer said, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, "if you want the gun, you'll have to make it. Belly-achin' around this a-way won't bring you nothin'. Let me know tomorrer night what you kin do, 'cause there's plenty others'll jump at the chance." With that he turned and went back to the house, while Tusk, dazed and thinking hard, walked slowly and slouchily down the pike.
Chance succeeded where the ingenuity of Tusk might have failed. He reached a dip in the road where a small stream crossed, and stopped to drink. On his hands and knees, and with the water dripping from his mouth and chin, he suddenly raised his head to listen, then scurried into the bushes to watch, as he recognized the sound of a galloping horse.
Brent, coming from town, felt his mount shy and saw Potter looking out at him. He did not know, of course, the part Tusk had played in the schoolhouse drama, or of the fire, or, indeed, anything about him except that he owned a piece of land which Dulany, Buckville's legal hope, was trying to buy for the railroad, and that someone else had said his strength was as great as his intellect was lacking. Brent reined up.
"Hello, Potter! What are you doing in there?"
"Hello yohse'f," Tusk emerged. "Hold up a minute!"
"Well?" Brent asked.
There was a pause, and Brent asked again: "Well?"
"Tom says as how you kin git that hund'ed for buhnin' down my cabin!"