"He come 'long with his shotgun and starts shootin' at me!"
"What'd you do?"
"I runs, Mister Jodie! Fast! But I falls down—hangs my feets under a corn stalk —and I draps my shotgun. I hears three, four shots! But I ain't hit. Sylvie, she's down lickin' my face. Quick, I gets up and looks back sideways to see how close Mister Ward's a-gettin'. No Mister Ward! I looks again, and there he is layin' down on the ground, the gun in his hand, and hit still smokin'.
"And there stands Little Stray, holdin' my gun in his hand, and hit still smokin'! I say, 'O Lawd!' I gets up. Then I tries to 'cide what to do. The blood, it's a-gushin' outta Mister Ward's neck like a stuck hog!
"I grabs the chile and shakes him. I say 'Little Stray Boy, what make you shoot Mister Ward!'"
"He yell, 'I didn't! I didn't!' But, Mister Jodie, there he stand, still holdin' my shotgun in his hand. And Mister Ward, he layin' there 'tween the corn rows. I tries some more to 'cide what to do. First I say I go get the doctor. Then I say hit's too late. He dead. Then I figgers hit out. I totes Mister Ward up to the lane and leans him over by the fence. He was gettin' cold and stiff a' ready, Mister Jodie. I lays his gun on the ground, right 'side of his boots. Then, I takes Little Stray and Sylvie and goes back to the house. That was Sunday just 'fore dark, Mister Jodie. I don't sleep nary wink all that night. I starts out early yestiddy mornin' to see can I get a squirrel. 'Course, Little Stray, he follow 'long. 'Fore we gets outta my yard, here come that white man with the peg leg. He say come quick and help to tote Mister Ward to the house.
"We fetches him in the house and lays him on the bed. The peg-leg man sends me to tell Mister Wes. After that, I heads for the woods. I gets me a squirrel—first shot, Mister Jodie! Then, when you sends me in there with that kindlin' wood, I crams the little fox squirrel in Mister Ward's pocket!"
"My Lord, Ned! You oughtn't to have done that!"
"Mister Jodie, I just can't let the Lawmens get Little Stray! Look down there at him, Mister Jodie, a-holdin' the puppies and playin' on the floor with the chiliens. See, he done give your baby one o' his empty shells. That boy love empty shotgun shells better'n anything he ever see'd. He tromp up and down the roads lookin' for shells. Look at him! His poor back won't never be straight!"
"Ned, you don't seem to understand!"