The rope rasps against
the hole when the gate goes up or down. It was just like a lock was
bein' picked, or a rattly old window bein' slid up by inches.
"I mistrusted right away. It wouldn't do any good for me to holler.
The nearest neighbor was two miles off. I hadn't any gun, and never
shot off a gun in my life. I would hate to hurt a human bein' that
way. Still, I was excited and afraid of gettin' killed myself; so if
I'd _had_ a gun I _might_ have shot it off, for by the time
I got my dress and stockin's on, that window was up, and somethin'
was in that front room. I could hear him step, still as a cat.
"I thought about the toll-money. Everybody knew the box's inside the
door, so I was far from leavin' it there till the collector came. I
always took the money out and tied it in a canvas sack and hid it. A
body would never think of lookin' where I hid that money."
"Where did you hide it?" inquired aunt Corinne.
The toll-woman rose up and went to collect from a carriage at the
door. The merry face of a girl in the carriage peeped through the
house, and some pleasant jokes were exchanged.
"That's the daughter of the biggest stock man around here," said the
toll-woman, returning, and passing over aunt Corinne's question.
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