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Updated: May 2, 2025
"Lots of 'em hain't wuth the paper they are on," replied Washburn. "The old firm knowed everybody in creation, an' never could refuse a soul. When you bought the accounts you didn't buy gold dollars." "I know that, but Bradley said he thought I might collect a good many of them." "Oh yes; maybe a half, or tharabouts." "Well," said Westerfelt, indifferently, "we'll do the best we can."
Westerfelt heard the beat of hoofs behind him. He was sure Bates and Harriet were approaching, but he dared not look around. Through the trees came the sound of singing from the camp-ground. The horse behind got nearer and nearer, till it stopped with its nose in the back part of Westerfelt's buggy, Westerfelt did not turn his head.
But as he continued to watch the approaching figure he was surprised to note that Slogan was displaying more energy than usual. The little, short man was taking long steps, and now and then jumping over an obstacle instead of going around it. And when he had reached the gate he leaned on it and stared straight at Westerfelt, as if he had lost his power of speech.
Bradley took up her paddle and began to stir the contents of the pot. "I reckon, I ortter tell you, plain, Mis' Dawson, that John Westerfelt is stayin' with us. We've got plenty o' room fer you both, but I thought it mought not be exactly agreeable fer you." A spiteful fire kindled in Mrs. Dawson's eyes.
He would not leave her lying there if he could help it, and yet he did not want Wambush to know she had warned him. The gang stopped, and Washburn came to them. "Any directions you want to give?" he asked of Westerfelt. "I saw you looking for the account-book," answered Westerfelt, staring significantly into his eyes. "I was in the blacksmith's shop to-day and left it on the forge."
Westerfelt hesitated, and looked at the crowd that filled the door and stood peering in at the window. Mrs. Floyd was running up and down in the hall, excitedly calling for Harriet, but the crowd was too anxious to hear Westerfelt's reply to notice her. "If nothing else will suit you, yes," answered Westerfelt, calmly.
Westerfelt ought not to stay here alone, and that we'd get him to come over to the room he had in the hotel; so we " "You an' yore mother hain't knowed 'im sence he wus knee-high like me an' Luke has," jealously retorted Mrs. Bradley. "I reckon it's time we wus givin' the boy a little attention. We've got the buggy down thar waitin', John, an' a hot breakfast ready at home.
The next morning, as he was returning from the post-office, Westerfelt met Peter Slogan riding to a field he had rented down the road, and which he was getting ready for cotton-planting. Slogan was astride of his bony horse, which was already clad in shuck collar and clanking harness, and carried on his shoulder a cumbersome plough-stock.
As Westerfelt walked away Washburn said to himself; "It u'd be tough on 'im ef Bascom Bates is ahead of 'im, after all his hangin' back. By George! I can't imagine who else Bates could 'a' intended to ask; he's give up goin' to Hansard's. I'll bet my hat Bates means business with Miss Harriet." Westerfelt walked into the parlor of the hotel.
Lord, I've got plenty else to think about besides gals an' women. I think I'm on track o' the skunk 'at stole my axe." Westerfelt walked on. It was plain to him that none of the neighbors knew the secret of Sally Dawson's death, but he was beginning to think that the mother of the girl might half suspect the truth, and that she was his enemy for life he did not doubt.
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