"I
ain't never seen this here Mr. Man as far as I know. I don't never want
to see him. I ain't got no call to mix myself up in such, and I 'low
I'll sleep easier and live longer if I don't do it."
"That's right," quavered Roxy. "Burkhalter's boy, he had to go to mixin'
in when the Culps and the Venables was feudin'; and look what chanced.
Nary one o' them families lost a man; but Burkhalter's boy got hisself
killed up. Yes, that's what happened to him. Dead. I went to
the funeral."
"True as Scriptur'," confirmed Zack--"reach an' take off, Pros. Johnnie,
eat hearty--true as you-all set here. I he'ped make the coffin an' dig
the grave."
After a time there came a sort of ruth to Johnnie for the poor
creatures, furtive, stealing glances at each other, and answering her
inquiries or Uncle Pros's with dry, evasive platitudes. She knew there
was no malice in either of them; and that only the abject terror of the
weak kept them from giving whatever bit of information it was they had
and were consciously withholding. Soon she ceased plying them with
questions, and signalled Uncle Pros that he should do the same. After
the children were asleep in their trundle-bed, the four elders sat by
the dying fire on the hearth and talked a little. Johnnie told Zack and
Roxy of the mill work at Cottonville, how well she had got on, and how
good Mr.
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