Old Mrs. Spencer came to the door and with her tangish tongue larrupped the men, called them cowards, dogs; and appealing to Jasper asked why he didn't kill them as his forefathers would have done. She swore that all spirit had gone out of the country.
"I've moulded bullets to kill better men than you," she exclaimed. "Not one of you is worth an ounce of lead; an' you tell them government fellers down there that thinks themselves so smart that if they tetch a hair on my boy's head, I'll come down there and murder the whole kit an' b'ilin' of them. Go on now, Laz, an' show 'em that you ain't afeared."
"Got rid of her easy," said Foster, when the old woman turned back into the house; and Laz, overhearing him as he climbed into the wagon drawled out a reply:
"Don't take long for anybody to git rid of her."
She waved him a good-bye from the window, and humped upon a seat beside Jasper, Laz was silent for some time, and then he inquired if there were any news stirring.
"No. Anythin' goin' on round here?"
"Nothin' wu'th dividin' 'cept Mose Blake fell into the river yistidy an' was drownded."
"What, you don't tell me so?" the old man exclaimed.
"Yes, couldn't swim a lick atter he struck the water an thar wan't no use in tryin' befo' he struck."
"Powerful sorry to hear it," said Jasper. "Good feller—worst habit of his was always tryin' to talk when he couldn't."