"Oh, yeh don't need no gun," interrupted the major, waving his hand: "All I'm afraid of is that I won't find 'im. My eyes ain't so good as they was."
"Well—"
"Come along," whispered the major. "Yeh hain't afraid, are yeh?"
"No, but—"
"Well, come along, then. What's th' matter with yeh?"
Peter climbed the fence. He paused on the top rail and took a prolonged stare at the inscrutable woods. When he joined the major in the cornfield he said, with a touch of anger:
"Well, you got the gun. Remember that. If he comes for me, I hain't got a blame thing!"
"Shucks!" answered the major. "He ain't agoin' t' come for yeh."
The two then began a wary journey through the corn. One by one the long aisles between the rows appeared. As they glanced along each of them it seemed as if some gruesome thing had just previously vacated it. Old Peter halted once and whispered: "Say, look a' here; supposin'—supposin'—"
"Supposin' what?" demanded the major.