rom being brilliant.

"Well--do you know," said he, when I had finished speaking, "I had a
suspeecion that that might be your bisness? I don know why I shed a
thort so; but maybe 'twar because thar's been some others come here to
settle o' late, an' found squatters on thar groun--jest the same as
Holt's on yourn. That's why ye heerd me say, a while ago, that I
shedn't like to buy over _his_ head."

"And why not?" I awaited the answer to this question, not without a
certain degree of nervous anxiety. I was beginning to comprehend the
counsel of my Nashville friend on the ticklish point of _pre-emption_.

"Why, you see, stranger--as I told you, Hick Holt's a rough customer;
an' I reckon he'll be an _ugly_ one to deal wi', on a bisness o' that
kind."

"Of course, being in possession, he may purchase the land? He has the
right of pre-emption?"

"'Taint for that. _He_ ain't a-goin' to _pre-empt_, nor buy neyther;
an' for the best o' reezuns. He hain't got a red cent in the world, an'
souldn't buy as much land as would make him a mellyun patch--not he."

"How does he get his living, then?"

"Oh, as for that, jest some'at like myself. Thar's gobs o' game in the
woods--both bar an' deer: an' the clarin' grows him corn. Thar's
squ'lls, an' 'possum, an' turkeys too; an' lots o' fish in the crik--if
one gets tired o' the bar an' deer-meat, which I shed niver do."

"But how about clothing, and other necessaries that are not found in the
woods?"

"As for our clothin' _it_ ain't hard to find. We can get that in
Swampville by swopping skins for it, or now an' then some deer-meat. O'
anythin' else, thar ain't much needed 'bout here--powder, an' lead, an'
a leetle coffee, an' tobacco. Once in a while, if ye like it, a taste
o' _old corn_."

"Corn! I thought the squatter raised that for himself?"

"So he do raise corn; but I see, stranger, you don't understand our odd
names. Thar's two kinds o' corn in these parts--that as has been to the
_still_, and that as hain't. It's the first o' these sorts that Hick
Holt likes best."

"Oh! I perceive your meaning. He's fond of a little corn-whisky, I
presume?"

"I reckon he are--that same squatter--fonder o't than milk. But
surely," continued the hunter, changing the subject, as well as the tone
of his speech--"surely, stranger, you ain't a-goin' on your bisness the
night?"

"I've just begun to think, that it _is_ rather an odd hour to enter upon
an estate. Th