We'll have to keep you close till we get
through with you."
"Is that the law?"
"Yes, as we understand it."
"Wall, then, I may not have to shoot you the fust time I meet you in the
big road. Got a good artickle of pie thar in the kitchin?"
"You shall have all the pie you want."
Then Mose began: "Ef t--t--t--that's the case you m--m--m--mout drive a
l--l--little faster. An' p--p--p--pound cake?"
"Yes, you may have some of that, too."
"Then I'm g--g--g--glad I c--c--come. Never had as m--m--much
p--p--pound cake as I co--could eat b--b--but once, an' then I staid all
night with a feller w--w--w--when his mammy w--w--wan't at home."
"Am I to be locked up?" the old man asked.
"Yes, Mr. Starbuck."
The old fellow groaned and in the dusk shrank down, little in his
humiliation.
"Sometimes," he said, "folks have to stay in there a good while before
they air fotch to trial. Do you think you kin fix it so they kin have it
over with my case as soon as possible?"
"Yes, we'll try to rush you through."
"Through to where--to where?" the old man muttered to himself.
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