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"Wal, it ain't on a warlike bender, whether Ailikoleep or no, seein' as thar's weemen an' childer in 't. So I reck'n thar's nothin' to be skeart about jest yet, though you niver kin tell for sartin what the critters air up to till they show it themselves."
He stole a pace forward and halted, listening with one ear back and one pad raised; then cantered silently away in the gloom, passing close to the two men and yet not observing them. "What's up, I wonder?" mused the postman. "The fox set 'em clackerin', I reck'n," said the Master. "Not he; he was scared 'maist oot o' his skin," the other answered.
You hold still I'll go en see." He went, and bent down and looked, and says: "It's a dead man. Yes, indeedy; naked, too. He's ben shot in de back. I reck'n he's ben dead two er three days. Come in, Huck, but doan' look at his face it's too gashly." I didn't look at him at all. Jim throwed some old rags over him, but he needn't done it; I didn't want to see him.
He sho' told dat black debble 'bout what he thought ob him, but he didn't nebber once call him Hawley no, sah, not once; he done call him Bartlett, or somet'ing or odder like dat. But he sutt'nly read dat man's pedigree from way back to de time ob de flood, I reck'n. An' he done swore he'd fight for whatebber it was, papers or no papers.
They must a made some hyar in the mud, while toatin' thar things to the dug-out. The durned rain's washed 'em out every footmark o' 'em." "But the horses? what of them? They could not have gone off in the canoe?" "I war just thinkin' o' them. The one you seed with Stebbins must a been hired, I reck'n; an' from Kipp's stables.
"Well, sir," so he had often laughed, "I reck'n dey must o' gimme de name o' White fur a joke. But de Jordan I don' know, less'n dey named me Jordan 'caze ev'ybody was afeerd ter cross me." From which it seems that the surname was not an inheritance.
Miss Lou hastily returned to the house, but Chunk coolly entered the cabin, saying, "I'se git a bite fer mebbe I ain' yere ter dinner." "Reck'n you better be skerce, Chunk, ef Mad Whately comes," said his grandmother, trembling. "I knows des w'at ter 'spect fum Mad Whately en fum dat ar oberseer too, but dey fin' me a uggly ole hornet.
"You'll niver be shot at arter now, 'ceptin' ye leave this clarin'. One crack from my gun'll be enuf for ye, I reck'n." "I'll take my chance. If it should go against me, you won't gain by it. Remember, my good man, it's not a duel we're fighting! You have chosen to attack me; and if I should fall in the affair, I've faith enough in the law to believe it will avenge me."
"You might think about something more decent just now," said the boy coldly. "Good-bye. I'm afraid you haven't lived a very good life." As the boy groped his way back, the parched voice pursued him from the nether hell. "My respects to the old man. We seen a tidy bit together, him and me; but reck'n this last little bust-up bangs the lot.
Bill! but guv'm'nt business 's look'n' up there'll be some o' th' rest o' us a-want'n this yere off'c', a ter nex' 'lection, I reck'n'." It was the blacksmith, who is also the ferryman, who thus bantered the delighted postmaster, a broad-faced, big-chested, brown-armed man, with his neck-muscles standing out like cords, and his mild blue eyes dancing with fun, this rustic disciple of Tubal Cain.
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