were consulted often before the continued direction of the
road could be determined and located.

In such cases, to the lovers of the consistent in character, the
respective traits of old Persimmon Sneed and Silas Boyd were displayed
in all their pristine value; for although their interests were
identical, both being opposed to the opening of the road, the
dictatorial arrogations of the elder man and the pugnacious
persistence of the younger served to antagonize them on many a minor
point in question, subsidiary to the main issue, as definitely as if
they were each arrayed against the other, instead of both being in
arms under the "No Road" banner.

"Mighty nigh ez interestin' ez a dog-fight," said Jeremiah Sayres in
an aside to one of the jury.

Midday found them considerably advanced on their way, but brought to a
halt by an insistence on the part of Silas Boyd that the road should
be diverted from a certain depression showing marshy tendencies to a
rugged slope where the footing was dry but difficult.

"That's under water more 'n haffen the winter, I'll take my
everlastin' oath. Ef the road runs thar, that piece will take enough
mendin' in a season ter keep up ten mile o' dry road," he argued
vehemently.

"Water ain't dangersome, nowise," retorted the elderly Persimmon, with
a snarling smile. "Healthier 'n whiskey, my frien',--_heap_ healthier
'n whiskey."

Boyd's serious countenance colored darkly red with wrath. Among the
aggressive virtues of old Persimmon Sneed were certain whiskey-proof
temperance principles, the recollection of which was peculiarly
irritating to Silas Boyd, known to be more than ordinarily susceptible
to proof whiskey.

"I be a perfessin' Baptis', Mr. Sneed," he retorted quickly. "I got no
objection ter water, 'ceptin' fur the onregenerate an' spurners o'
salvation."

Now Persimmon Sneed had argued the plan of atonement on every possible
basis known to his extremely limited polemical outlook, and could
agree with none. If any sect of eclectics had been within his reach,
he would most joyfully have cast his spiritual fortunes with them, for
he felt himself better than very many conspicuous Christians; and as
he would have joyed in a pose of sanctity, the reproach of being a
member of no church touched him deeply.

"I ain't no ransomed saint, I know," he vociferated,--"I ain't no
ransomed saint! But ef the truth war known, ye ain't got no religion
nuther! That leetle duckin' ez ye ca