We left John Cather behind.
“Uncle Nick,” says I, “I ’low we’d best have un along.”
“An’ why?” cries he.
“I don’t know,” says I, honestly puzzled.
He looked at me quizzically. “Is you sure?” he asked. His eyes twinkled. “Is you sure you doesn’t know?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, frowning. “I don’t know at all.”
“Dannie,” says he, significantly, “’tisn’t time yet for John Cather t’ go t’ St. John’s. You got t’ take your chance.”
“What chance?” I demanded.
“I don’t know,” says he.
I scowled.