“Go ahead. It’s your deal.”
“You see, the summer I was eighteen, my cousin worked for dad hayin’ time. He was a little older’n me, and he had a powerful appetite, Bill had. If it wasn’t for that, he’d ’a’ been a nice feller enough, but at the table he always wanted more than his share of wittles. Now, that ain’t fair, no ways—think it is, stranger?”
“No! Go ahead with your story.”
“One day we sat down to dinner. Marm had made some apple-dumplin’ that day, and ’twas good, you bet. Well, I see Bill a-eyin’ the dumplin’ as he shoveled in the meat and pertaters, and I knowed he meant to get more’n his share. Now, I’m fond of dumplin’ as well as Bill, and I didn’t like it. Well, we was both helped and went to eatin’. When I was half through I got up to pour out some water. When I cum back to the table Bill had put away his plate, which he had cleaned off, and was eatin’ my dumplin’.”
“What did you say?” inquired the gentleman from Pike, interested.
“I said: ‘Bill, you’re my cousin, but you’ve gone too fur.’ He laffed, and we went into the field together to mow. He was just startin’ on his swath when I cum behind him and cut his head clean off with my scythe.”
Joe had difficulty in suppressing his laughter, but Mr. Bickford looked perfectly serious.
“Why, that was butchery!” exclaimed the Pike man, startled. “Cut off his head with a scythe?”
“I hated to, bein’ as he was my cousin,” said Joshua, “but I couldn’t have him cum any of them tricks on me. I don’t see as it’s any wuss than shootin’ a man.”
“What did you do with his body?” asked Joe, commanding his voice.