“The rains and snows will wash that off before the five years are up,” said I.
“Never mind! we can remember,” said Fred. “And now,” he continued, as he shook hands with me, “don’t look back. I’m not going to; it isn’t lucky, and it’ll make us want to be home again. Good-bye!”
“Good-bye! Remember, five years,” said I.
He took the east road, I the west, and neither looked back.
I think I must have walked about four miles without seeing any human being. Then I fell in with a boy, who was driving three cows to pasture, and we scraped acquaintance.
“Where y’ goin’?” said he, eyeing my bundle.
“A long journey,” said I.
“Chiny?” said he.
“Maybe so—maybe not,” said I.
“What y’ got t’ sell?” said he.