he asked one day.

“He wa’n’t that-a-way when doctah war here last. Hit war nigh on five year ago that come on him. He had fevah, an’ a right smart o’ times when we thought he war a-gettin’ bettah he jes’ went back, ontwell he began to kind o’ draw sideways this-a-way, an’ he hain’t nevah been straight sence, an’ he has been that sickly, too. When doctah saw him last, he war nigh three year old an’ straight as they make ‘em, an’ fat — you couldn’t see a bone in him.”

David pondered a moment. “Suppose you give him to me awhile,” he said. “Let him live with me in my cabin — eat there, sleep there — everything, and we’ll see what can be done for him.”