ye’ll go back an’ fill up on whiskey agin, an’ thar’ll be the end of ye.” He walked on a few steps at her side, then stopped suddenly.

“I ‘low I better bide whar I be. You-uns hain’t been yandah to the fall, have ye?”

“I have. You done a heap mo’n you reckoned on. When Marthy heered o’ the killin’, she jes’ drapped whar she stood. She war out doin’ work ‘at you’d ought to ‘a’ been doin’ fer her, an’ she hain’t moved sence. She like to ‘a’ perished lyin’ out thar. Pore little Hoyle, he run all the way to our place he war that skeered, an’ ‘lowed she war dade, an’ me an’ the ol’ man went ovah, an’ thar we found her lyin’