“Don’t you play nothing on me, because I wouldn’t on you. Honest injun, you ain’t a ghost?”

“Honest injun, I ain’t,” I says.

“Well — I — I — well, that ought to settle it, of course; but I can’t somehow seem to understand it no way. Looky here, warn’t you ever murdered at all?”

“No. I warn’t ever murdered at all — I played it on them.

You come in here and feel of me if you don’t believe me.”

So he done it; and it satisfied him; and he was that glad to see me again he didn’t know what to do. And he wanted to know all about it right off, because it was a grand