“All right, I won't ask—I'll tell. That young feller from out West, the feller with the uncommon name—Brown—Jones—Oh, no, Smith, that was it—he came cruisin' around here and—”
“Uncle Shad, how did you know?”
“A little bird told me. A long-legged bird without much hair on top—a bald-headed eagle, I cal'late he must be. Hops round our kitchen daytimes and roosts in the attic nights.”
“Isaiah! Of course he would tell.”
“Of course he would—BEIN' Isaiah. Well, this Smith critter, he came and—and—well, I guess you'll have to tell me the rest.”
“There isn't much to tell. He came and—and then he went away again.”
“Went away—where?”
“Out to Carson City, I suppose.”
“Ain't he comin' back any more?”
“No.”