"Yer ain't no fool, Hunch, but yer an awful tease."
No king ever received homage more gracefully than Hunch.
"What'll it be?" he asked; and when the others failed to suggest anything he gave them further reason to admire his cleverness.
"I don't think Satan'd dare put his split foot on a lock uv Parson Lawrence's hair."
That was decisive; but how to obtain a lock of Parson Lawrence's hair was not so easily agreed upon. Finally, Hunch asserted with something of a swagger.
"I'll git it, don't be afeard, fellers."
Before him rose a vision of the good man asleep upon his bed. A malformed figure creeps silently across the floor. It is Hunch. He reaches the bed. He stretches out a hand, which holds a pair of shears. There is a snap in the stillness. Soon the dwarf departs through the window, bearing with him a lock of the snow-white hair.
Blind Benner spoiled this possible adventure.
"Don't steal it, Hunch," he said, "'cause if yer do, the devil will walk on it jest like he would on his own carpet, fer all stole things is his."
Hunch's countenance fell and his manner became less confident, but yet he declared he would be able to procure the lock of hair. However, he made an effort to prepare Bill for disappointment by asking: