“No,” said the boy quickly; “I’ll never go back till I’m old enough to lick him and make him sorry I come.”
“Oh, well, you think you will. But you won’t never. The rough edge’ll be wore off afore you git round to it. Once I swore I’d thrash a schoolmarster I hed, and when I went to do it we jes’ sot down and talked over old times, like ol’ friends. But what’ll your mother and sis do without you?”
“They’ll be better off without me. I can’t help mother any, nor she me, yet awhile. Can’t you let her know I’m safe some way?”
“Oh, yes, I’ll happen round there some day to rights. How in tunket did she ever come to mate wi’ that surly red-haired dog? You know I hain’t seen her since they was married. Women is onaccountable critters, anyhow, an’ I’ve been marcifully presarved from ever bein’ tackled to one on ’em;” yet he sighed, as he looked about the littered room, that showed so plainly the lack of housewifely care.
After the supper of fried venison and johnny-cake was eaten, they sat in the twilight and firelight talking over the past and plans for the future, till the boy, worn out with the events of the day, was given a nest of furs in the loft, where he would be safe from detection by any chance visitor, and Job, after barring the door and carefully covering the fire, betook himself with the hound to their accustomed couch on the floor.
[CHAPTER XII—A FREE LIFE]
The borders of the clearing were dimly defined in the dusk of the next evening, and Nathan was beginning to feel lonely, though he had the hound for company, when Job came in with his gun on his shoulder.
“Well, what news?” Nathan asked, after a little impatient waiting for Job’s account of his trip abroad.
“Well, I happened in just arter noon. Your nice stepfather sot by the fireplace a smokin’. ‘Where’s Nate,’ says I, an’ he up an’ answered mighty quick, ‘Run away, but he’ll be back quick enough.’ Your mother was lookin’ turrible worrited, an’ it was quite a spell afore I could git a chance to do my arrant with Toombs right in the room. Bimeby I made out to have a turrible pesterin’ sliver in my right hand an’ got your mother to pick it out wi’ a needle. I’d ruther have a leg took off ’an to have a woman jabbin’ at a sliver. Whilst she was at it, me wi’ my back towards Toombs, I whispered you was at my house and all right, an’ you’d ortu seen her face light up. Then we played the sliver was out, an’ arter I’d wished you was to home to go fishin’ with me an’ wondered what on airth you’d run away f’m such a good home for, I come off. An’ I tell you, boy, that ere ol’ scoundrel thinks he’s killed you. When I come off towards where he chopped that tree, he follered along to see if I went nigh it, an’ all the time I could see he was scairter’n he was mad.”
“I don’t care, I can’t go back if you’ll let me stay with you.”