" Foster commanded.

"Yes, that's what I 'lowed I'd do. But let me go into the house an' put
on some more duds if you air goin' to take me down into society."

"Go with him, Nick," said Foster, and the deputy leaped to the ground.

Old Mrs. Spencer came to the door and with her tangish tongue larrupped
the men, called them cowards, dogs; and appealing to Jasper asked why he
didn't kill them as his forefathers would have done. She swore that all
spirit had gone out of the country.

"I've moulded bullets to kill better men than you," she exclaimed. "Not
one of you is worth an ounce of lead; an' you tell them government
fellers down there that thinks themselves so smart that if they tetch a
hair on my boy's head, I'll come down there and murder the whole kit an'
b'ilin' of them. Go on now, Laz, an' show 'em that you ain't afeared."

"Got rid of her easy," said Foster, when the old woman turned back into
the house; and Laz, overhearing him as he climbed into the wagon drawled
out a reply:

"Don't take long for anybody to git rid of her."

She waved him a good-bye from the window, and humped upon a seat beside
Jasper, Laz was silent for some time, and then he inquired if there were
any news stirring.

"No. Anythin' goin' on round here?"

"Nothin' wu'th dividin' 'cept Mose Blake fell into the river yistidy an'
was drownded."

"What, you don't tell me so?" the old man exclaimed.

"Yes, couldn't swim a lick atter he struck the water an thar wan't no
use in tryin' befo' he struck."

"Powerful sorry to hear it," said Jasper. "Good feller--worst habit of
his was always tryin' to talk when he couldn't."

"Yep. But he ain't tryin' of it now."

"I am also sorry he's dead," said Foster. "We were going to take him
down to town with us."

"No use to take him now," Laz replied; and a silence fell, broken only
when they turned back into the highway, when the lout of a driver,
impressed in the neighborhood, remarked to Laz:

"I reckon you air as about as big a liar as they kin set up. Here comes
Mose Blake now."

"Hah!" exclaimed Foster. "A good backwoods trick. Round him up, boys."

The stutterer was dressed in his best, on his way to pay stammering
court to a girl. He strove to explain that he couldn't go with them, but
the officers laughed at his attempts to talk, compelled him to get in,
and drove on.

At night they camped near a spring, beneath a walnut tree, the officers
standing turn about while the prisoners