p."

Truedale turned his chair about and faced Jim.

"Do you know," he said, "you've mentioned more names in the last ten
minutes than you've mentioned in all the weeks I've been here? You give
me a mental cramp. Why, I thought you and I had these hills to
ourselves; instead we're threatened on every side, and yet I haven't
seen a soul on my tramps. Where do they keep themselves? What has this
Burke Lawson done, to stir the people?"

"You don't call your santers real tramps, do you? Why folks is as thick
as ticks up here, though they don't knock elbows like what they do where
you cum from. They don't holler out ter 'tract yer attention, neither.
But they're here."

"Let's hear more of Burke Lawson." Truedale gripped _him_ from the
seething mass of humanity portrayed by White, as the one promising most
colour and interest. "Just where does Burke live?"

"Burke? Gawd! Burke don't live anywhere. He is a born floater. He
scrooges around a place and raises the devil, then he just naturally
floats off. But he nearly always comes back. Since the trap-settin' a
time back, he has been mighty scarce in these parts; but any day he may
turn up."

"The trap, eh? What about that?" With this Truedale turned about again,
for Jim, having finished his work on the gun, had placed the weapon on
its pegs on the wall and had drawn near the fire. He ran his hand
through his crisp, gray hair until it stood on end and gave him a
peculiarly bristling appearance. He was about to enjoy himself. He was
as keen for gossip as any cabin woman of the hills, but Jim was an
artist about sharing his knowledge. However, once he decided to share,
he shared royally.

"I've been kinder waitin' fur yo' to show some interest in us-all," he
began, "it's a plain sign of yo' gettin' on. I writ the same to old Doc
McPherson yesterday! 'When he takes to noticin',' I writ, 'he's on the
mend.'"

Conning laughed good naturedly. "Oh! I'm on the mend, all right," he
said.

"Now as to that trap business," Jim took up the story, "I'll have to go
back some and tell yo' about the Greysons and Jed Martin--they all be
linked like sassages. Pete Greyson lives up to Lone Dome. Pete came from
stock; he ain't trash by a long come, but he can act like it! Pete's
forbears drank wine and talked like lords; Pete has ter rely on mountain
dew and that accounts fur the difference in his goin's-on; but once he's
sober, he's quality--is Pete. Pete's got two darters--Marg an'
N