“Good evenin’!” responded the visitor. “How’s the clam fish’n’?”
“Jest so-so,” replied Saunders. “Have a seat.”
He gave the old man a box, with an improvised back, to sit on, and, after a few remarks about the weather, our caller explained that he had lost a cow, and wondered if we had seen anything of her.
“Wot kind of a look’n’ anamile was she?” inquired Sipes.
“Gray, with a lot o’ black spots on ’er. One horn bent out forrads, an’ the other was twisted back, an’ she had a short tail. She’s been roamin’ in the woods a good deal lately, an’ last night she didn’t come home. I thought I’d come down this way an’ see if I could locate ’er.”
“I seen a cow like that yisterd’y,” replied the culprit. “She was over on the other side o’ the river, an’ come down to drink. She prob’ly mosies ’round nights like that ’cause she’s restluss. Her tail’s bobbed an’ she can’t switch away the skeets. She’ll prob’ly show up all right.”
“Yes, I s’pose she will. Guess I won’t worry about ’er.” The visitor’s eyes wandered about the camp. I had noticed a small brown turkey feather on the ground, near where Sipes sat, but that wily strategist had deftly slipped it into his side pocket.
Evidently the industry on the river had been duly observed by the scattered dwellers in the back country, for our caller seemed to know all about us. He understood that I was “drawin’ scenes ’round ’ere.” Possibly some unknown observer had, at some time, come near enough to see what I was doing, and noislessly retreated.
Sipes went down to the cabin of the Crawfish, and returned with the jug. “Wouldn’t ye like to ’ave a little sump’n, after yer long walk?” he asked.
“B’lieve I would!”