Starbuck asked Laz how his
brother Bill was getting along since the fellow cut him with a knife,
an affair of no particular consequence, but serving as an incidental
topic for thoughtless talk.
"Sorter slow," said Laz, never changing a line of his countenance. His
face was as fixed as a mask, stupid and expressionless. Whenever he
smiled it was a neighborhood event.
"Wall, how did it happen, any way?" Starbuck inquired, biting an apple.
"Wall, Bill he war settin' thar on a log, lookin' out over the new
ground, not a thinkin' about bein' stobbed nur nuthin', an' this feller
jest slipped up an' stobbed him."
There came a hoarse cry from without.
"Somebody's a hollerin' helloa," said Margaret, grinding her coffee by
the fire-place.
Jasper went to the door.
"Helloa, that you, Gabe?"
"What's left of me," a voice replied.
"Won't you light an' look at yo' saddle?"
"No, don't believe I got time. Was goin' down to town an' didn't know
but you mout want to send fur suthin'."
"No, don't believe I'm pinched for anythin' at present.
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