Andy turned to face Luke Trull, who had stolen upon him unseen and unheard. Still wearing his sun-faded trousers and torn shirt, still needing a haircut and shave, his eyes were fixed on the muskrats in the slough. Andy's heart sank. He'd feared the native swamp predators. But not even the great horned owls could work the same fearful damage as Luke Trull, should he decide to come raiding. Andy said coldly,
"Hi, Luke."
"I heerd tell," the other smirked, "'bout somethin' new in the swamp."
"Who told you?"
"News gits 'round."
"There is something new. But it belongs to me and so does the swamp. Both are to be left alone."
"Oh sure. Sure 'nough. I aim to leave 'em alone. They's mushrats, ain't they?"
"That's right. They're muskrats."
"Wu'th a heap of money, ain't they?"
"Not a 'heap.' Maybe a couple of dollars or so for a good prime pelt."