“The sheriff will do his duty, immediately,” was the Judge’s stern reply, who began to tire of the old man’s drunken insolence. Accordingly, Uncle Josey and the “Gin’ral” were marched off towards the county prison, which stood in a retired part of the village. Arriving at the door, the prisoner was commanded by the sheriff to “light.”
“Look-a-here, Jess, horse-fly, you ain’t agwine to put yer old Uncle Josey in there, is yer?”
“ ’Bliged to do it, Uncle Josey,” replied the sheriff, “ef I don’t, the old man (the judge) will give me goss when I go back. I hate it powerful, but I must do it.”
“But, Jess, couldn’t you manage to let the old man git away? Thar ain’t nobody here to see you. Now do, Jess, you know how I fit for you, in that last run you had ’long er Jim Smith, what like to a beat you for sheriff, which he would a done it, if it hadn’t been for yer Uncle Josey’s influence.”
“I know that, Uncle Josey, but thar ain’t no chance. My oath is very pinted against allowin’ anybody to escape. So you must go in, cos thar ain’t no other chance.”
“I tell you what it is, Jess, I’m afeared to go in thar. Looks too dark and dismal.”
“Thar ain’t nothing in thar to hurt you, Uncle Josey, which thar hain’t been for nigh about six months.”
“Yes, thar is, Jess, you can’t fool me that a-way. I know thar is somethin’ in thar to ketch the old man.”
“No thar ain’t, I pledge you my honour thar ain’t.”
“Well, Jess, if thar ain’t, you jest go in and see, and show Uncle Josey that you ain’t afeared.”