“Evenin’, suh,” he said,—“evenin’, evenin’.”
“Howdy do,” returned the other amiably.
“Ah reck’n yo’-all done had er breck-down wid dat machine-thing dar. Spec’ er graveyahd rabbit done cross yo’ pahf. Yo’ been hyuh ’bout er hour, ain’ yo’?”
“Nearer three,” said Valiant cheerfully, “but the view’s worth it.”
A hoarse titter came from the conveyance, which gave forth sundry creakings of leather. “Huyh! Huyh! Dat’s so, suh. Dat’s so! Hm-m. Reck’n Ah’ll be gittin’ erlong back.” He clucked to the mule and proceeded to turn the vehicle round.
“Hold on,” cried John Valiant. “I thought you were bound in the other direction.”
“No, suh. Ah’m gwine back whah I come f’om. Ah jus’ druv out hyuh ’case Miss Shirley done met me, en she say, ‘Unc’ Jeffe’son, yo’ go ’treckly out de Red Road, ’case er gemman done got stalled-ed.’”
“Oh—Miss Shirley. She told you, did she? What did you say her first name was?”
“Dat’s huh fus’ name, Miss Shirley. Yas, suh! Miss Shirley done said f’ me ter come en git de gemman whut—whut kinder dawg is yo’ got dar?”
“It’s a bulldog. Can you give me a lift? I’ve got that small trunk and—”