ficiently to plan what he should and
should not say at home about his visit to Oaklands.

"'Twon't do to tell Abner whut thet ole sea skunk hinted 'bout plots
an' treasons. Hiram'd be tortured by Injuns befoh he'd tell out plain
whut he'd promised to keep secret; an' ef Abner knowed he'd hinted et
sich damnation things ag'in him, he'd t'ar up the airth to mek him
tell; fur Ab in his own way's ez stubbo'n an' sot ez the ole Scratch
hisse'f. With the two uv 'em to manidge, I'm betwixt tommyhock an'
buzzard, so to speak, an' I won't hev a minit's peace tell I wollop 'em
both, an' mek 'em behave therse'ves. So I reckon I'll hafto talk in
kindah gen'ral terms, or in par'bles, ez Brothah Stone would say, when
Abner axes me 'bout my intahview with Hiram."

The opportunity for Rogers' diplomatic use of "par'bles" came that
evening. "The angel Gabriel hisse'f couldn't mek heads or tails o' whut
Hiram means," he said in answer to a question from Abner. "He don't
know hisse'f whut he means. He's bittah an' sore ag'in ev'rything an'
ev'rybody whut hain't ready to fall on Brothah Stone, an' eat him ha'r
an' hide. You teched him up fust on thet p'int; then while he's still
kindah riled with you--fur it teks him a long time to fergit a man's
darin' to sot up opinions 'ginst his'n--up you prances ag'in 'bout
Betsy. No, you didn't beg him sortah bashful an' meechin' lak--I know
you so well, Ab--but you jes' demands his gal's hand in marridge. This
riles him still futhah. Then, instid o' bein' meek an' lowly, an'
smoothin' him down, an' axin' him to please be so kind ez to reconsidah
the mattah, you puts on yo' I'm-ez-good-ez-you-an'-a-blamed-sight-bettah
air, an' axes him to explain his conduc'."

"But indeed, Mr. Rogers, I was both respectful and deferential to Major
Gilcrest."

"Oh, yes, ez meek ez Moses, I s'pose you think yo'se'f," ejaculated
Mason, with a shrewd smile.

"I don't know exactly how meek Moses really was when he was courting
Jethro's daughter," Abner began.

"Oh, go to thundah with yo' Moses an' yo' Jethro's daughtah!" laughed
Mason, impatiently. "Mayby you thought you wuz meek an' differential;
but don't I know you? Then, thah's anothah p'int," he added after a
pause. "Thah's thet sneakin' fellah, Drane. Buttah won't melt in his
mouth, an' maple syrup hain't ez sweet ez his ways. He's rich an' fine
ez a fiddle, too, an' is all respect an' 'umbleness with ole Hi, who
thinks jes' kaze the daddy, ole Anson Drane,