"Yes," replied Howard, in the most conciliatory tone he could command, "and I hope I find in you one of my flock."
"No, suh, I's a Babtist myse'f. I wa'n't raised up no place erroun' Mt. Hope; I'm nachelly f'om way up in Adams County. Dey jes' sont me down hyeah to fin' you an' tek you up to Steve's. Steve, he's workin' to-day an' couldn't come down."
He laid particular stress upon the "to-day," as if Steve's spell of activity were not an every-day occurrence.
"Is it far from here?" asked Dokesbury.
"'T ain't mo' 'n a mile an' a ha'f by de shawt cut."
"Well, then, let's take the short cut, by all means," said the preacher.
They trudged along for a while in silence, and then the young man asked, "What do you men about here do mostly for a living?"
"Oh, well, we does odd jobs, we saws an' splits wood an' totes bundles, an' some of 'em raises gyahden, but mos' of us, we fishes. De fish bites an' we ketches 'em. Sometimes we eats 'em an' sometimes we sells 'em; a string o' fish'll bring a peck o' co'n any time."
"And is that all you do?"
"'Bout."