Tom pulled his horse down to a walk. He was in no mood for companionship, but he knew Pettigrass would refuse to be shaken off.
"Where have you been?" he asked sourly.
"Me? I been over to McLemore's Valley, lookin' at some brood-mares that old man Mac is tryin' to sell the Major."
"Did you come through Pine Knob?"
"Shore, I did. I was a-settin' on Brother Bill Layne's porch whilst you was talkin' to Nan Bryerson. Seems sort o' pitiful you cayn't let that pore gal alone, Tom-Jeff."
"That's enough," said Tom hotly. "I've heard all I'm going to about that thing, from friends or enemies."
"I ain't no way shore about that," said the horse-trader easily. "I was 'lottin' to say a few things, m'self."
Tom pulled the bay up short in the cart track.
"There's the road," he said, pointing. "You can have the front half or the back half—whichever you like."
Japheth's answer was a good-natured laugh and a tacit refusal to take either.