"Aw, well, I'd tell, on'y I'm afeared you'd go un let out."
"Not me. 'T a'n't like me to blab."
"Well, I don' mine tellin' you, S'manthy, 'f yeh won't tell the ole man tell mornin'."
"Oh! I'd never tell him. He'd go potterin' all over Broad Run Holler weth it, fust thing."
"'S the bes' joke," said Bob, rubbing his knees exultingly; "but I'm afeared you'll tell," he added, rousing himself.
"'Pon my word 'n' honor, I won't. Nobody'll ever git 't out uh me." And S'manthy emphasized this assurance by a boastful nodding of the head forward and to one side.
"Well, 'f you think you kin keep the sekert overnight—Don' choo tell no livin' critter tell mornin'."
"I hain't no hand to tell sekerts, an' you 'd orter know that, Bob."
"Well, you jes let Jake 'n' his crowd go to Moscow to-night," said Bob, chuckling in a semi-tipsy, soliloquizing tone. "I come over to make shore they wuz a-goin', un I wuz to let the sher'f know ef they had got wind uv anything. I saw Markham, the deppitty, about one o'clock this mornin', un he tole me he 'd look arter the eenques' un I mus' keep a lookout over h-yer. Jake 'll have a rousin' time, un no mistake."
"Shootin'?" queried S'manthy, with eagerness.