The light moved away from the window. Then another front window opened quiet, and a voice says:
"Doctor, is that yo' back agin?"
"No," I says, "I ain't a doctor."
"Stay where you are, then. I GOT YOU COVERED."
"I am staying," I says, "don't shoot."
"Who are yo'?"
"A feller," I says, kind of sensing his gun through the darkness as I spoke, "who has found your OLD DEAD HOSS in the road."
He didn't answer fur several minutes. Then he says, using the words DEAD HOSS as Bud had said he would.
"A DEAD HOSS is fitten fo' nothing but to skin."
"Well," I says, using the words fur the third time, as instructed, "it is a DEAD HOSS all right."