He give me a kinda keen look. Then he moseyed.
It wasn’t more ’n a’ hour afterwards when somebody passed that I knowed–in one of them dinky, little buggies that ain’t got no cover. Who d’ you think it was?–that Doctor Bugs!
I was at his hoss’s haid ’fore ever he seen me. “Hole up, Simpson,” I says, “I want t’ talk to you.”
“Why, Alec Lloyd!” he says.
“That’s my name.”
“How ’d you git here?” He stuck out one of them soft paws of hisn.
“Wal, I got turned this way, and then I just follered my nose.” (I didn’t take his hand. I’d as soon ’a’ touched a snake.)
“Wal, I’m glad t’ see you.” (That was a whopper.) “How’s ev’rybody in Briggs?”
“Never you mind about Briggs. I want t’ ast you somethin’: Where’s Macie Sewell?”
“I don’t know.”