Sooner or later, after each new arrival, they branched off upon politics, and the McKinley Bill was handled gingerly. If any one, in his zeal, raised his voice above a certain pitch, some one said "Hish!" and the newcomer's voice sank again to that abnormal quiet which falls now and again on these loud-voiced folk of the wind and open spaces.
The boys hung around the kitchen and smoke-house, playing sly jokes upon each other in order to provoke that explosion of laughter so thoroughly enjoyed by those who can laugh noiselessly.
A snort of this sort brought Deacon Williams out to reprimand them, "Boys, boys, you should have more respect for the dead."
The preacher came. The choir raised a wailing chant for the dead, but the group by the haystack did not move.
Occasionally they came back, after talking about seeding and the price of hogs, to the discussion of the dead man's affairs.
"I s'pose his property will go to Emmy and Serry, half and half."
"I expec' so. He always said so, an' John wa'n't a man to whiffle about every day."
"Well, Emmy won't make no fuss, but if Ike don't git more'n his half, I'll eat the greaser."
"Who's ex-ecutor?"
"Deacon Williams, I expect."