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I did see a sorter light in the sky when I was leavin' town, and thinks I to myself, that old swamp back of the ten acre patch must be burnin' again; but I never dreamed it was the stable and hay barn, sure I didn't sir." The farmer hardly seemed to know what to say to this, he was so taken aback by the utter absence of guilt in the face and manner of Jo.
It should have been significant to any one who knew the mountain people, that information concerning Gray Stoddard within a week of his disappearance, was noticeably lacking. Nobody would admit that his had been a familiar figure on those roads. At the utmost they had "seed him a good deal a while ago, but he'd sorter quit riding up this-a-way of late."
He was deep enough in the plot to know that if mother and son had not had a visitor, they ought to have had one. "I suspicioned it was that shiftless, do-nothing chap, Kelsey," replied the overseer. "Looked sorter like his mu-el." "Oh, yes; Kelsey has been up to see us," answered Marcy. And then he tapped his boot with his whip and waited to see what was coming next.
Two months before, I'd rode my pony to death to look once in her eyes. She's like sunshine in the woods to me, an' I dotes on every word she utters like it's a roast apple. But after she gets to be Bill's wife I cools complete. "Not that lovin' Bill's wife, with his genius for shootin' a pistol, is goin' to prove a picnic, an' him sorter peevish an' hostile nacheral.
"I didn't know but what ye'd patched things up sorter," said the citizen, invitingly. "There is nothing to patch up," said Kenneth. "Well, I guess it ain't any of my business, anyhow," remarked the other, cheerfully.
"Sorter what th' feller calls vain regrets," suggested McGuffey. "Vain regrets is the word," mourned Mr. Gibney. "It all comes back to me what I hove away when I was young an' foolish an' didn't know when I was well off. If there'd only been some good-hearted lad to advise me, I wouldn't be a-settin' here on a hemp hawser, a blasted beachcombin' bucko mate and out of a job. No, siree.
I sho' didn't want Mister Hawley to git no chance at dis nigger I sho' didn't." "Did they speak to one another?" Keith asked, anxiously. "Did you hear what was said?" "Sho' dey talked, Massa Jack. I sorter reckon dey was dar for dat special purpose. Sutt'nly, sah, dey went right at talkin' like dey hed som't'ing on dey minds.
Smiley was a good deal surprised, and he was disgusted too, but he didn't have no idea what the matter was of course. "The feller took the money and started away; and when he was going out at the door, he sorter jerked his thumb over his shoulder so at Dan'l, and says again, very deliberate, 'Well, he says, 'I don't see no p'ints about that frog that's any better'n any other frog.
"Lyin' among the rotten quartz of the vein was a pick," he said, constrainedly; "and the face of the vein sorter looked ez if it had been worked at. Follering the line outside to the base of the hill there was signs of there having been an old tunnel; but it had fallen in, and was blocked up." "Well?" said Mrs. Mulrady, contemptuously.
"Well, she didn't say nothin'; just sorter looked around. I reckon she's a good sport, all right. What do ye suppose she's come yere for?" "Not the slightest idea; I take it that's her business." "Sure; but a feller can't help wonderin', can he? Donovan," he mused, peering at the name; "that's Irish, I take it hey?" "Suspiciously so; you are some detective, Pete.
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