“Why, no. Oh, he was breathin’,” Casy went on, “but he was dead. He was that place, an’ he knowed it.”
Uncle John said, “Did you know he was a-dyin’?”
“Yeah,” said Casy. “I knowed it.”
John gazed at him, and a horror grew in his face. “An’ you didn’ tell nobody?”
“What good?” Casy asked.
“We—we might of did somepin.”
“What?”
“I don’ know, but—”
“No,” Casy said, “you couldn’ a done nothin’. Your way was fixed an’ Grampa didn’ have no part in it. He didn’ suffer none. Not after fust thing this mornin’. He’s jus’ stayin’ with the lan’. He couldn’ leave it.”
Uncle John sighed deeply.