th thish 'ere sneakin' aroun' an' hidin'-out bizness."

This appeared to end the conversation, but it left Woodward
considerably puzzled. Shortly afterward he heard a rap at his door, and
before he could respond to the summons by inquiry or invitation, Teague
Poteet entered with a lighted candle in his hand.

"I 'lowed the stirrin' 'roun' mought 'a' sorter rousted you," said
Teague, by way of apology, as he placed the light on a small table and
seated himself on a wooden chest.

"Yes. What's up?" Woodward inquired.

"Oh, the boys--thes the boys," Teague replied, chuckling and rubbing
his chin with an embarrassed air; "hit's thes the boys cuttin' up some
er ther capers. They er mighty quare, the boys is," he continued, his
embarrassment evidently increasing, "mighty quare. They uv up'd an' tuk
a notion for to go on a little frolic, an' they uv come by airter me,
an' nothin' won't do 'em but I mus' fetch you. S' I, 'Genter_men_, they
hain't no manners in astin' a man on a marchin' frolic this time er
night,' s' I; but Sid Parmalee, he chipped in an' 'lowed that you wuz
ez high up for fun ez the next man."

Woodward thought he understood the drift of things, but he was
desperately uncertain. He reflected a moment, and then faced the
situation squarely.

"If you were in my place, Mr. Poteet, what would you do?" he asked.

This seemed to relieve Teague, His embarrassment disappeared. His eyes,
which had been wandering uneasily around the room, sought Woodward's
face and rested there. He took off his wide-brimmed wool hat, placed it
carefully upon the floor, and ran his fingers through his iron-grey
hair.

"I don't mind sayin'," he remarked grimly, "that I uv seed the time
when I'd uv ast you to drap out'n that winder an' make for the bushes,
knowin' that you'd tote a han'ful er bullets in thar wi' you. But on
account er me an' Sis, I'm willin' to extracise my bes' judg_ment_. It
mayn't be satisfactual, but me an' Sis is mighty long-headed when we
pulls tergether. Ef I was you, I'd thes slip on my duds, an' I'd go out
thar whar the boys is, an' I'd be high up for the'r frolic, an' I'd
jine in wi' 'em, an' I'd raise any chune they give out."

With this Poteet gravely bowed himself out, and in a very few minutes
Woodward was dressed and ready for adventure. He was young and bold,
but he felt strangely ill at ease. He realised that, with all his
address, he had never been able to gain the confidence of these
mountaine