"Smell of it, Papa! Stray saw Mister Hawk drop it and—"
Papa grabbed me up and whirled around to face Mister Hawk.
"What do you think now, Mister Hawk? You still say little young'uns tell the truth?"
Mister Hawk began to laugh. But it didn't sound like real laughing. He kicked open the door of the heater with one foot and spit his wad of tobacco into the fire. Then, he could laugh better. But he still sounded strange, like a frog that couldn't croak. Or sort of like a rooster choking instead of crowing.
"Yeah. They do, Jodie. I'm seventy-odd years old, and I never know'd a little young'un to lie. I killed Ward Lawson. I did! I killed him!"
Mister Hawk reached over and patted my knee. "This baby's tellin' the gospel truth! I didn't figger nobody seen me do it, but I reckon that humpbacked little darkie seen me, all right."
"Mister Hawk, do you realize what you're saying?"
"Jodie, 'course I realize what I'm sayin'! I shot Ward late Sunday evenin'! Had to. The fool, he scared my poor mule outta her wits with that damn automobile of his'n! She ain't et a good meal since he bought the devilish thing!"
"Mister Hawk, you say—"
"Sheriff, I'd do it again!"