"An' Lord, he come down an' boughten a lot of aigs offen me. Him an' Mr. Bethune is both got manners."
"Women folks likes 'em better'n what men does, seems like," opined Watts, reflectively.
"Why don't men like them?" asked the girl eagerly.
"I dunno. Seems like they jes' nachelly mistrust 'em someways."
"Did my father like him—Mr. Bethune?"
"'Cordin' to Mr. Bethune they wus gret buddies, but when I'd run acrost yo' pa in the hills, 'pears like he wus allus alone er elsen Vil Holland was along. But, Mr. Bethune claims he set a heap by yo' pa, like the time he come an' 'lowed to take away his pack. I wouldn't let hit go, 'cause thet hain't the way Vil said, an' Mr. Bethune, he started in to git mad, but then he laffed, an' said hit didn't make no diff'ence, 'cause all he wanted wus to be shore hit wus saft kep."
"An' Pa mos' hed to shoot him, though, 'fore he laffed. I done tol' Pa he hadn't ort to. Lessen yo' runnin' a still, yo' hain't no call to shoot folks comin' 'round."
"Shoot him!" exclaimed Patty, staring in surprise at the easy-going Watts.
"Yas, he aimed to take thet pack anyways. So I went in an' got down the ol' rifle-gun an' pintedly tole him I'd shoot him dead ef he laid holt o' thet pack, an' then he laffed an' rud off."
"But, would you have shot him, really?"