“He won't be consulted none. And his hide will come off easy once I get hold of him by the scruff of the neck.” Yancy's speech was gentle and his lips smiling, but he meant a fair share of what he said.
“Sho', is that the way you do it?” And round-eyed they gazed down on this fascinating stranger.
“I may have to touch him up with a tickler,” continued Yancy, who did not wish to prove disappointing. “I reckon you-all know what a tickler is?”
They nodded.
“What if Mr. Slosson totes a tickler, too?” asked Keppel insinuatingly. This opened an inviting field for conjecture.
“That won't make no manner of difference. Why? Because it's a powerful drawback fo' a man to know he's in the wrong, just as it's a heap in yo' favor to know you're in the right.”
“My father's got a tickler; I seen it often,” vouchsafed Henry.
“It's a foot long, with a buck horn handle. Gee whiz!—he keeps it keen; but he never uses it on no humans,” said Keppel.
“Of course he don't; he's a high-spirited, right-actin' gentleman. But what do you reckon he'd feel obliged to do if a body stole one of you-all?” inquired Yancy.
“Whoop! He'd carve 'em deep!” cried Keppel.