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Then kem up ter Gran'dad Kettison's whenst it is cleverly dark an' tap on the glass winder not on the batten shutter. An' I'll hev cartridges an' powder an' ball for ye' an' some victuals ready, too." But the fugitive, despite his straits, demurred. "I don't want ter git old man Kettison into trouble for lendin' ter me." "'T ain't his'n. 'T is my dad's old buckshot ca'tridges an' powder an' ball.
In fact, he experienced a pleased importance in giving Old Daddy a minute account of the wonderful apparition, for he felt as if he had seen it. "'Pears ter me toler'ble comical, gran'dad, ez they never tole ye a word 'bout'n it all," he said in conclusion. "Ye mought hev liked ter seen the harnt.
"Don't, Gran'dad," she exclaimed suddenly, stepping alertly forward "don't put that loaf in that thar bread-box; the box 'pears ter be damp. Leave the loaf in the big basket till ter-morrer. It'll eat shorter then, bein' fraish-baked.
There was an enigma in the rejoinder; she did not stay to read the riddle, but went on to possess the situation, according to her wont. "Ye hev tuk a powerful pore place ter hide," she admonished him. "This tree is a plumb cur'osity. Gran'dad Kettison war tellin' some camp-hunters 'bout'n it jes this evenin'. Like ez not they'll kem ter view it."
"Old Tom Kittredge," the father resumed, after a time, "he jes' branded yer gran'dad's cattle with his mark; he jes' cheated yer gran'dad, my dad, out'n six head o' cattle."
And now will you let me take you to your gran'dad?" She nodded, and I spoke to the bay and mounted, still holding her closely in my arms. "Tell me quickly which way to go, Polly," I said; for besides being, as I would fear, far out of the way to Gilbert Town, the last hilltop to the rear had given me another sight of my shadowing pursuers riding hard as if they meant to overtake me.
I drew rein quickly, and the little maid sat up and saw the musket. "Don't shoot, gran'dad!" she cried. "He's Cappy Jack, and he doesn't eat folkses." At this the old man came to meet us, though still with the clumsy musket held at the ready. "These be parlous times, sir," he said, half in apology, I thought.
He could see the family group within. Tom's father was placidly smoking. His palsied "gran'dad" shook in his chair in the chimney-corner as he told the wide-eyed boys big tales about the "Injuns" that harried the early settlers in Tennessee. "Tom," Jim said, glancing up at the big boy, "Tom, thar's a witch waitin' fur ye at the sulphur spring! Go thar, quick!"
Are they still alive?" "Know them? Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich, though their father is in Siberia: a sinner like ourselves, it seems! As for you, Gran'dad, how did you come here?" Aksionov did not like to speak of his misfortune. He only sighed, and said, "For my sins I have been in prison these twenty-six years." "What sins?" asked Makar Semyonich.
Perhaps it was the after-glow of the sunset in the sky, but a crimson flush sprang into her delicate cheek; her eyes were evasive, quickly glancing here and there with an affectation of indifference, and she had no mind to talk of love, she declared. But she should think of her gran'dad and gran'mam, he persisted. How had she the heart to deprive them of his willing aid?
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