"How air you gittin' along, Laz?" Old Jasper inquired.
"Never better."
"Glad to hear it. Best day of a man's life is when he was never better.
I'll let that nigger finish this job," he said, sticking the axe into a
log; and Mrs. Mayfield, willing enough to play quits, smiled upon him
and walked out to the gap and stood looking down the road.
"Have a drink of water, Laz?" Jasper inquired, pointing to a pail on the
bench.
"No, laid on a rock an' got a drink outen the creek as I come along."
"Wall, this is fresh water. Wan't fotch from the spring mo' than
twenty-fo' hours ago."
"Don't reckon you kin tempt me, Jasper."
The old man took up the gourd, and in attempting to drink, let the water
pour through the handle and run down his sleeve. He threw the vegetable
dipper back into the bucket and declared that a man might as well try to
drink out of a sifter.
"Any news over yo' way, Laz?"
"Don't believe thar's anythin' wu'th dividin'."
"Nobody shot or cut?"
"Let me see. Reckon you hearn about Oscar Pryor.
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