A body kin go up ter a mounting top fer nine
nights an' shoot through a kerchief at ther moon, cussin' ther Almighty
each separate time, an' ownin' Satan fer master."
"Number Thirteen, what powers does Satan give these hyar sarvants of
his'n?"
"They gains ther baleful power ter kill folks with witch balls, rolled
tight outen ther hair of a cow or a varmint. By runnin' a hand over a
rifle gun they kin make hit shoot crooked. They kin spell a houn' dog
so thet he back-tracks 'stid of trailin' for'ards. They kin bring on
all manner of pestilence an' make cows go dry an' hosses fling their
riders. They kin----"
"Thet's enough, Number Thirteen," announced the spokesman. "Thet's a
lavish of evil. How kin they be hindered from this deviltry?"
"Thar's means of liftin' spells, but nothin' save death hitself cures
ther witches."
"Number Thirteen, how does ye go about hit, ter slay a witch?"
"By shootin' with a silver bullet run outen a mould thet's done been
rubbed with willow-sprigs."
"Number Thirteen, in the event of need, hev ye got sich a bullet hyar?"
"Each one of us hes got one.
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