"Well, nor, I reckon you better not," he
drawled; "thar 's some right bad dogs down
thar in the pines,— mons 'us bad; an' I 's gwine
cut through the woods an' see ef I can't pick up
a squ'rr'l, gwine 'long, for the ole 'ooman's
supper, as I got to go 'way to-night or to-mor-
row ; she 's mighty poorly. ' '

"Is she poorly much?" asked Willy, greatly
concerned. ' ' We '11 get mamma to come and see
her to-morrow, and bring her some bread. ' '

' ' Nor, she ain ' so sick ; that is to say, she jis '
poorly and 'sturbed in her mind. She gittia'
sort 0' old. Here, y' all take these squ'rr'ls,"
he said, taking the squirrels from his old game-
bag and tossing them at Willy 's feet. Both boys

51



TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES

protested, but he insisted. "Oh, yes; I kin get
some mo ' fur her. ' '

"Y' all better go home. Well, good-by, much
obliged to you, ' ' and he strolled off with his gun
in the bend of his arm, leaving the boys to ad-
mire and talk over his courage.
