outh--looked up at her with a singularly innocent and appealing
expression, but gradually as he saw her impassive and unrelenting face,
his own resumed a hard and sullen look, which made him appear years
older. His forehead was damp and cold, and a lock of silken black hair,
slightly curling over it, increased its whiteness. Dark, heavy rings
were under his eyes, which gleamed blue as the sky between long dark
lashes. His arms dropped listlessly at his side, and he stood before
her, as before a dread judge, bareheaded and silent. He bore her look
only for a minute, then dropped his eyes, and his hand clinched more
tightly the rim of his old felt hat. When he ceased looking at her, her
eyes softened.

"I 'low ye mus' hev suthin' to say fer yourse'f," she said.

"I reckon." The corners of his mouth drooped, and he did not look up. He
made as if to speak further, but only swallowed and was silent.

"Ye reckon? Waal, why'n't ye say?"

"They hain't nothin' to say. He war mean an'--an'--he's dade. I reckon
he's dade."

"Yas, he's dade--an' they done had the buryin'." Her voice was
monotonous and plaintive. A pallor swept over his face, and he drew the
back of his hand across his mouth.

"He knowed he hadn't ought to rile me like he done. I be'n tryin' to
make his hoss go home, but I cyan't. Hit jes' hangs round thar. I done
brung him down an' lef' him in your shed, an' I 'lowed p'rhaps Uncle
Jerry'd take him ovah to his paw." Again he swallowed and turned his
face away. "The critter'd starve up yander. Anyhow, I ain't hoss
stealin'. Hit war mo'n a hoss 'twixt him an' me." From the low, quiet
tones of the two no one would have dreamed that a tragedy lay beneath
their words.

"Look a-hyar, Frale. Thar wa'n't nothin' 'twixt him an' you. Ye war
both on ye full o' mean corn whiskey, an' ye war quarrellin' 'bouts
Cass." A faint red stole into the boy's cheeks, and the blue gleam of
his eyes between the dark lashes narrowed to a mere line, as he looked
an instant in her face and then off up the trail.

"Hain't ye seed nobody?" he asked.

"You knows I hain't seed nobody to hurt you-uns 'thout I'd tell ye. Look
a-hyar, son, you are hungerin'. Come home with me, an' I'll get ye
suthin' to eat. Ef you don't, ye'll go back an' fill up on whiskey agin,
an' thar'll be the end of ye." He walked on a few steps at her side,
then stopped suddenly.

"I 'low I better bide whar I be. You-uns hain't been yandah to the fall,
have ye?"