When she came in sight of the cabin she heard Mammy Sheldon crying. Did the poor soul cry all the time, or did her ear warn her of the approach of a step, and did she then begin to sob and moan? She recognized Elizabeth and made a frantic effort to lift herself on her elbow.
“Don’t give it to him! Don’t give it to him!”
Elizabeth went close to the bed.
“What is it he wants?”
“He wants my last testament, so as to tear it up or burn it an’ to have the money to spend for a gun. My money to be buried decent with a preacher an’ the singin’ of psalms. Don’t give it to him! Don’t give it to him!”
Elizabeth could see on the beam above her head the edge of the white paper, still undisturbed.
“Where is my brother?”
Mammy Sheldon looked long at Elizabeth. Into her eyes came a look of crazy cunning.
“They shot him,” said she. “Of course they shot him! It was right outside this door.”
Elizabeth laughed hysterically.