“‘That was a mean undercut you give me, Thomas,’ sais the murderer. ‘A gentleman should never abuse a gentleman behind his back!’ he sais. ‘Now s’posn you pass that bread in here.’
“‘But I got it fer meself,’ Tom wentures.
“‘Did ye?’ answers Berrybush, pressin’ on the butt of the gun jest a leetle. ‘Well, s’posn ye pass it in anyway an’ dewote the rest o’ the afternoon to hopin’. Mebbe you’ll git it after all.’
“Tom passed it.
“The road was steep an’ the way was rough in the mo’ntain. Strong ez he was an’ light ez was the murderer, the work begin to go heavy with him. But the pistol was allus at his back proddin’ him on. Oncet he stepped inter a chuckhole an pitched for’a’d, his hands jest savin’ him from strikin’ his face to the ground. He thot that all was up with him, fer the pack was jerked up on his head, wrenchin’ his shoulders most dreadful. He closed his eyes expectin’ to hear the crack o’ the gun an’ then go plungin’ on agin fer ever an’ ever.
“Nawthin’ happened. He climbed to his feet kind o’ dissypinted, fer instead o’ his journey bein’ ended he hed to go limpin’ ahead. Si was a-cursin’ him dreadful. Tom walked like an ellyphant, he sayd, an’ was joltin’ his bones all out o’ j’int. Next time he stumbled the gun ’ud be cocked dead sure.
“The sun was settin’ ’hen they reached the edge o’ the woods on yon side the mo’ntain. The murderer pushed up the lid o’ the pack an’ looked out over Tom’s shoulder. He pinted acrosst the walley twenty mile to where they could see the hills agin. There, he sayd, he’d be th’oo with his mule.
“Th’oo with him! Tom knowd what that meant. He knowd now Si Berrybush ’ud keep his word; that he’d never git out o’ that pack an’ leave a man alive an’ runnin’ round to tell where he could be found. He was almost willin’ to call the game up right there an’ lay down his load an’ his life together, but still there was hope. It was precious leetle, to be sure, but still some. Ez Si sayd, they was no tellin’ what might happen agin they got to the end o’ that twenty mile.
“Berrybush pulled in his head an’ let the flap down over it. ‘Git up’, he sais, ‘git up, ole Tom.’ An’ with that he give him a prod.
“On Buttonporgie went, down the slope inter the walley, each step takin’ him nearer an’ nearer the hills. The sun set an’ the darkness come to add to his troubles. The lights went out in the houses ’long the way an’ they wasn’t no sound to cheer him up, not a sound but the steady breathin’ in his pack an’ the rattle o’ the gravel under his own shufflin’ feet. It was awful travellin’ that way, straight on an’ on to the hills where he was to die, feelin’ allus on his back the weight o’ the man who was to kill him.