"
"I ain't a makin' light of it--can't make nuthin' of it. Laz, kin you
think of any other little thing that's happened to fret yo'
neighborhood?"
"Believe not, nothin' wuth dividin'. Did hear that Tobe Walsh war kicked
to death by a mule. Didn't put much faith in it, though."
"But was it true?"
"Yes. The mule got him. Buried ter-day."
"Oh, isn't that sad," Margaret wailed. "And he leaves a young wife,
too."
"Better than to leave an old one," said Jasper. "The young widder, you
know, kin smile through her grief."
"Had to tote her from the grave," Laz went on. "But she picked up a
right smart chance when Steve Moore came along. Had her bonnet set fur
him befo' she married Tobe, but he broke the strings an' got away."
"Don't want to borry nothin', do you, Laz?" Jasper inquired.
"Wall, yes," he answered, his countenance for the first time showing
signs of animation. "I come over to borry a hoss fur a week or two. Our
old nag fell offen the bluff an' killed hisse'f."
"That was ruther accommodatin', Laz. You would a been compelled to haul
him away in a day or two longer.
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