ortal life. Every time I go past the
graveyard whar he be buried I kin feel his fingers on my throat. He had
a nervy grip, but no variation; he always tuk holt the same way."

"Tears like ter me ez 'twar a fust-rate time ter fetch out the rifles
again," remarked Tim, "this mornin', when old Pa'son Bates kem up
hyar an' 'lowed ez he hed married Eveliny ter Abs'lom Kittredge on
his death-bed; 'So be, pa'son,' I say. An' he tuk off his hat an' say,
'Thank the Lord, this will heal the breach an' make ye frien's!' An'
I say, 'Edzacly, pa'son, ef it _air_ Abs'lom's deathbed; but them
Kittredges air so smilin' an' deceiv-in' I be powerful feared he'll
cheat the King o' Terrors himself. I'll forgive 'em ennything--_over his
grave?_"

"Pa'son war tuk toler'ble suddint in his temper," said the literal
Steve. "I hearn him call yer talk onchristian, cussed sentiments, ez he
put out."

"Ye mus' keep up a Christian sperit, boys; that's the main thing," said
the old man, who was esteemed very religious, and a pious Mentor in his
own family. He gazed meditatively into the fire. "What ailed Eveliny
ter git so tuk up with this hyar Abs'-lom? What made her like him?" he
propounded.

"His big eyes, edzacly like a buck's, an' his long yaller hair," sneered
the discerning Timothy, with the valid scorn of a big ugly man for a
slim pretty one. "'Twar jes 'count o' his long yaller hair his
mother called him Abs'lom. He war named Pete or Bob, I disremember
what--suthin' common--till his hair got so long an' curly, an' he sot
out ter be so plumb all-fired beautiful, an' his mother named him agin;
this time Abs'lom, arter the king's son, 'count o' his yaller hair."

"Git hung by his hair some o' these days in the woods, like him the
Bible tells about; that happened ter the sure-enough Abs'lom," suggested
Stephen, hopefully.

"Naw, sir," said Tim; "when Abs'lom Kittredge gits hung it 'll be with
suthin' stronger'n hair; he'll stretch hemp." He exchanged a glance of
triumphant prediction with his brother, and anon gazed ruefully into the
fire.

"Ye talk like ez ef he war goin' ter live, boys," said old Joel Quimbey,
irritably. "Pa'son 'lowed he war powerful low."

"Pa'son said he'd never hev got home alive 'thout she'd holped him,"
said Stephen. "She jes' tuk him an' drug him plumb ter the bars, though
I don't see how she done it, slim leetle critter ez she be; an' thar she
holped him git on his beastis; an' then--I declar' I feel ez ef I