"Laz, wush you'd try to keep my hoss away from that bluff."
"Oh, I'll take as good kere of him as if he belonged to me."
"What!—as if he belonged to you? Then I reckon I better not let you have him. You must do better than that, Laz. An' say, don't furgit to fetch him back."
"Oh, I never furgit nuthin'. Good-day."
Margaret hastened to the window and called after him: "Oh, Laz. We air goin' to kill a sheep to-morrer. Tell yo' mother we'll send her over a hindquarter."
"Yes'm," he answered, without looking back, and slouched off down the road.
Up and down the room the old man walked, deep in thought. With his eyes half-closed, sometimes he looked like a lion dozing in the sun. They say that a game-cock is the bravest thing in the world. That is not true. Nothing can be gamer than a game man. He is willing to die for a principle. And never is he thrice armed unless his quarrel is just.
Laz came back to the window and spoke and the old man started and looked toward him. "Jasper, I have hearn that Lije Peters is about to be app'inted deputy marshal."
"Yes, Laz, that's the news a stirrin'."
Behind the lout's countenance a light was gradually turned up. "We all knows whut that means, Jasper, an' ef you need me, all you've got to do is to git out on the hill-top an' holler. Layin' in bed one night, an' I hearn a feller holler. I went to him. They had him tied across a log an' his shirt was off. I asked the cap'n of the gang whut it meant, an' he 'lowed that the feller had been in the habit o' whippin' his wife, an' then I 'lows, I does—'Old chap, I reckon you'll hatter swallow yo' salts. Good night.' An' I hearn him a swollerin' 'em. But if I hear you holler, Jasper, I'll—"