Teague laughed aloud as he packed the fresh earth over his fire.
"Oh, Puss! Puss, she thes sets thar a-chawin' away at 'er snuff, an' a-knittin' away at 'er socks tell she thinks I 'm a-pushin' Sis too clost, an' then she blazes out an' blows me up. Airter that," Teague continued, "things gits more homelike. Ef 'twan't fer me an' Sis, I reckon Puss 'nd teetotally fret 'erself away."
"St. Paul," said Uncle Jake, looking confidentially at another dram which he had poured into the tin cup,—"St. Paul says ther' er divers an' many wimmin, an' I reckon he know'd. Ther' er some you kin fret an some you can't. Ther's my ole 'oman: the livin' human bein' that stirs her up'll have ter frail 'er out, er she'll frail him."
"Well," said Teague, by way of condolence, "the man what's stabbed by a pitchfork hain't much better off 'n the man that walks bar'footed in a treadsaft patch."
The suggestion in regard to Mistress Norris seemed to remind Uncle Jake of something important. He called to his boys, took another modest dram, and disappeared in the undergrowth. Teague Poteet and his friends were soon ready to follow this worthy example, so that in another hour Prather's Mill Road was a very dull and uninteresting place from a revenue point of view.
Woodward was aroused during the night by the loud barking of dogs, the tramp of horses, and the confused murmur of suppressed conversation. Looking from the window, he judged by the position of the stars that it was three or four o'clock in the morning. He sat upon the side of the bed, and sought, by listening intently, to penetrate the mystery of this untimely commotion. He thought he recognised the voice of Tip Watson, and he was sure he heard Sid Parmalee's peculiar cough and chuckle. The conversation soon lifted itself out of the apparent confusion, and became comparatively distinct. The voices were those of Teague and Sis.
"Come now, pap, you must promise."
"Why, Sis, how kin I?"
"You shall, you shall, you shall!"
"Why, Sis, hon, he mought be a spy. Sid Pannalee he 'lows that the whole dad-blamed business is a put-up job. He wants to bet right now that we'll all be in jail in Atlanty 'fore the moon changes. I lay they don't none of 'em fool Sid."