"I know one on 'em. Any business wi' him?"
"Well, yes—a little. I was told he lived on this road. How far is his house?"
"Well, I'll tell you"—Abe took off his hat and scratched his head—"some folks mought take a notion hit wuz a long ways off, an' then, ag'in, yuther folks mought take a notion that hit wuz lots nigher. Hit's accordin' to the way you look at it."
"Is Mr. Hightower at home?" inquired the stranger, regarding Abe with some curiosity.
"Well," said Abe cautiously, "I don't reckon he's right slam bang at home, but I lay he ain't fur off."
"If you happen to see him, pray tell him there's a gentleman at his house who would like very much to see him."
"Well, I tell you what, mister," said Abe, speaking very slowly. "You're a mighty nice young feller—anybody kin shet the'r eyes and see that—but folks 'roun' here is mighty kuse; they is that away. Ef I was you, I'd thes turn right 'roun' in my tracks 'n' let that ar Mister Hightower alone. I wouldn't pester wi' 'im. He hain't no fitten company fer you."
"Oh, but I must see him," said the stranger. "I have business with him. Why, they told me down in the valley that Hightower, in many respects, is the best man in the county."
Abe smiled for the first time. It was the ghost of a smile.
"Shoo!" he exclaimed. "They don't know him down thar nigh as good as he's know'd up here. An' that hain't all. Thish yer Mister Hightower you er talkin' about is got a mighty bad case of measles at his house. You'd be ableedze to ketch 'em ef you went thar."