atly excited by the proposed tour.

Benner trembled in silent joy. He was afraid to speak lest he should
suggest some objection to the plan and overthrow the whole scheme.

"We'd have to practice awhile together, then I'd know if the devil meant
to bother me." Bill spoke meditatively, and continued his thought in
silence. Presently Hunch broke the quiet.

"Say, Bill, listen ter me. It's my thinkin' thet if there's enybody this
side uv heaven that Satan's afeard uv, it's Parson Lawrence; an' ef yer
hed somethin' uv his'n 'long with yer, I don't think the devil'd come
near yer."

"Right, boy, right." Bill rushed at Hunch and shook him nervously.
"Maybe you have freed the devil-bound slave."

Blind Benner expressed his gratitude by saying:

"Yer _ain't_ no fool, Hunch, but yer an awful tease."

No king ever received homage more gracefully than Hunch.

"What'll it be?" he asked; and when the others failed to suggest
anything he gave them further reason to admire his cleverness.

"I don't think Satan'd dare put his split foot on a lock uv Parson
Lawrence's hair."

That was decisive; but how to obtain a lock of Parson Lawrence's hair
was not so easily agreed upon. Finally, Hunch asserted with something of
a swagger.

"I'll git it, don't be afeard, fellers."

Before him rose a vision of the good man asleep upon his bed. A
malformed figure creeps silently across the floor. It is Hunch. He
reaches the bed. He stretches out a hand, which holds a pair of shears.
There is a snap in the stillness. Soon the dwarf departs through the
window, bearing with him a lock of the snow-white hair.

Blind Benner spoiled this possible adventure.

"Don't steal it, Hunch," he said, "'cause if yer do, the devil will walk
on it jest like he would on his own carpet, fer all stole things is
his."

Hunch's countenance fell and his manner became less confident, but yet
he declared he would be able to procure the lock of hair. However, he
made an effort to prepare Bill for disappointment by asking:

"Wouldn't cotton in yer ears do as well as the hair in the box?"

Bill shook his head despondently, and replied:

"No, no; that makes me deaf for a while to the sweet voice of the
violin, become a devil's witch when my bow crosses the strings. When I
refuse to listen, the old Tempter gets into the fibre of the violin and
pleads by the touch of the vibrating, throbbing instrument, tender and
thrilling as the caress of the woman you love."