"Say," said Juckels, "what made you go over thar ter the wider's?"
"None of your business."
"Fine-lookin' gal they've got over thar, ain't she? Ken make er putty fair article uv pie, too, I tell you. Say, I bet I ken outrassle you fur that coat you've got on."
"I told you to go away."
"Wall, then, I ken outbox you fur that ar hat."
John had mended the girth and was trimming a switch that he had cut from a hickory sapling.
"Did you hear whut I said?" Juckels remarked.
John, without replying, was preparing to mount his horse, when Juckels took hold of his arm. John wheeled about, and with the switch gave the intruder so sharp a cut across the face that he roared with pain. "Never mind," he yelled as John rode away, "this ain't the last day in the world. You'll hear frum me one uv these days in a way that'll make you squeal."
John, upon arriving home, found his uncle and aunt. Old Jeff was wheezy with a cold which he had caught some time before, while tying fodder at night in the dew. He and his wife had met Alf, who was on his way to take them a piece of bear meat, had faced him about and compelled him to go back with them, declaring that they could take the meat home themselves.