“I'm shortly goin' that way myself, Mr. Carrington, and I'll be pleased of your company—but first I got to get through with Bob Yancy,” said Balaam, and again he produced the warrant. “If agreeable to you, Bob, I'll ask Uncle Sammy, as a third party friendly to both, to read this here warrant,” he said.
“Who's been a-warrantin' Bob Yancy?” cried Uncle Sammy, with shrill interest.
“Dave Blount has.”
“I knowed hit—I knowed he'd try to get even!” And Uncle Sammy struck his walking-stick sharply on the packed earth of Yancy's dooryard. “What's the charge agin you, Bob?”
“Read hit,” said Balaam. “Why, sho'—can't you read plain writin', Uncle Sammy?” for the patriarch was showing signs of embarrassment.
“If you gentlemen will let me—” said Carrington pleasantly. Instantly there came a relieved chorus from the three in one breath.
“Why, sure!”
“Would my spectacles help you any, Mr. Carrington?” asked Uncle Sammy officiously.
“No, I guess not.”
“They air powerful seein' glasses, and I'm aweer some folks read a heap easier with spectacles than without 'em.” After a moment's scrutiny of the paper that Balaam had thrust in his hand, Carrington began: