"What's the matter? Is he done kill de chickens? Is he done got away?" the old man asked, breathlessly.
"No, he's dyin'," shouted Willy.
"Hi! is you shoot him?" asked the old driver.
"No, that other man's poisoned him. He was the robber and he fooled this one," explained Willy, opening the door and peeping anxiously in.
"Go 'long, boy,—now, d'ye ever heah de better o' dat?—dat man's foolin' wid you; jes' tryin' to git yo' to let him out."
"No, he isn't," said Willy; "you ought to have heard him."
But both Balla and Frank were laughing at him, so he felt very shamefaced. He was relieved by hearing another groan.
"You hear that?" he asked, triumphantly.
"I boun' I'll see what's the matter with him, the roscol! Stan' right dyah, y' all, an' if he try to run shoot him, but mine you don' hit me," and the old man walked up to the door, and standing on one side flung it open. "What you doin' in dyah after dese chillern's chickens?" he called fiercely.