In the road a child, not more than able to toddle, was throwing
stones at a blowing old goose.
Kintchin tied his horse to a "swinging limb," and the ladies were
assisted to the ground. Tom conducted them into the post-office, a store
wherein the merchant had for sale snuff, red calico, brown jeans, plug
tobacco, cast iron plow points, nails and cove oysters. The post-master
came forward dragging after him two splint-bottom chairs.
"Set down," he said. "Never seed you befo', but I'm glad to see you
now."
Tom inquired if there were anything in the office for Mrs. Mary Mayfield
or himself, calling his name; and the post-master looked at him closely
and asked: "Any kin to old Zeb Elliot that used to sell mink skins?"
"No, I have no relatives in this part of the country."
"Wall, old Zeb was a good deal of a man."
"That may be, but he was no relation of mine."
"Had long red whiskers and his hair stood up straight--seed him climb a
tree one night and shake a coon out as slick as a whistle. Had a dog
named Tige--feller pizened him.
Pages:
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60