John, I reckon you may say that my nevvy's gone fo' to pay me
a visit. Most of his time will be agreeably spent shootin' with
this rifle at a mark, and me holdin' him so he won't get kicked
clean off his feet."
Thereafter beguiling speech flowed steadily from Mr. Yancy's
bearded lips, in the midst of which relations were established
between the mule and cart, and the boy quitted the Barony for a
new world.
"Do you reckon if Uncle Bob was to let you, you could drive,
sonny?"
"Can she gallop?" asked the boy.
Mr. Yancy gave him a hurt glance.
"She's too much of a lady to do that," he said. "No, I 'low this
ain't 'so fast as running or walking, but it's a heap quicker
than standing stock-still." The afternoon sun waned as they went
deeper and deeper into the pine woods, but at last they came to
their journey's end, a widely scattered settlement on a hill
above a branch.
"This," said Mr. Yancy, "are Scratch Hill, sonny. Why Scratch
Hill? Some say it's the fleas; others agin hold it's the eternal
bother of making a living here, but whether fleas or living you
scratch fo' both."
CHAPTER II
YANCY TELLS A MORAL TALE
In the deep peace that rested like a benediction on the pine-clad
slopes of Scratch Hill the boy Hannibal followed at Yancy's heels
as that gentleman pursued the not arduous rounds of temperate
industry which made up his daily life, for if Yancy were not
completely idle he was responsible for a counterfeit presentment
of idleness having most of the merits of the real article.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26