brings him home from his wandering." He paused, and picked up a fragment
of quartz, rubbed it thoughtfully on his sleeve, and went on: "It ain't
the first time that I've packed him on my back, as you see'd me now. It
ain't the first time that I brought him to this yer cabin when he
couldn't help himself; it ain't the first time that I and Jinny have
waited for him on yon hill, and picked him up and so fetched him home,
when he couldn't speak, and didn't know me. And now that it's the last
time, why"--he paused, and rubbed the quartz gently on his sleeve--"you
see it's sort of rough on his pardner. And now, gentlemen," he added
abruptly, picking up his long handled shovel, "the fun'l's over; and my
thanks, and Tennessee's thanks, to you for your trouble."

Resisting any proffers of assistance, he began to fill in the grave,
turning his back upon the crowd, that, after a few moments' hesitation,
gradually withdrew. As they crossed the little ridge that hid Sandy Bar
from view, some, looking back, thought they could see Tennessee's
Partner, his work done, sitting upon the grave, his shovel between his
knees, and his face buried in his red bandanna handkerchief. But it was
argued by others that you couldn't tell his face from his handkerchief
at that distance; and this point remained undecided.

In the reaction that followed the feverish excitement of that day,
Tennessee's Partner was not forgotten. A secret investigation had
cleared him of any complicity in Tennessee's guilt, and left only a
suspicion of his general sanity. Sandy Bar made a point of calling on
him, and proffering various uncouth but well-meant kindnesses. But from
that day his rude health and great strength seemed visibly to decline;
and when the rainy season fairly set in, and the tiny grass-blades were
beginning to peep from the rocky mound above Tennessee's grave, he took
to his bed.

One night, when the pines beside the cabin were swaying in the storm,
and trailing their slender fingers over the roof, and the roar and rush
of the swollen river were heard below, Tennessee's Partner lifted his
head from the Pillow, saying, "It is time to go for Tennessee; I must
put Jinny in the cart;" and would have risen from his bed but for the
restraint of his attendant. Struggling, he still pursued his singular
fancy: "There, now, steady, Jinny,--steady, old girl. How dark it is!
Look out for the ruts,--and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes,
you know, when