"Jasper, I have hearn that Lije Peters is about to be
app'inted deputy marshal."
"Yes, Laz, that's the news a stirrin'."
Behind the lout's countenance a light was gradually turned up. "We all
knows whut that means, Jasper, an' ef you need me, all you've got to do
is to git out on the hill-top an' holler. Layin' in bed one night, an' I
hearn a feller holler. I went to him. They had him tied across a log an'
his shirt was off. I asked the cap'n of the gang whut it meant, an' he
'lowed that the feller had been in the habit o' whippin' his wife, an'
then I 'lows, I does--'Old chap, I reckon you'll hatter swallow yo'
salts. Good night.' An' I hearn him a swollerin' 'em. But if I hear you
holler, Jasper, I'll--"
"Don't talk about it, Laz."
"All right. Good-day."
When he was gone the old man resumed his walk, musing: "Don't want to
see nuthin' red on the ground."
He took out his knife, put his foot on a chair, and began to cut his
shoe-strings. As he was cutting the string from the other shoe his wife,
peeping round at him, inquired:
"Whut you do that fur?"
"I don't want to die with them on if I kin help it.
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