ys s'ore they wuz a-gwine to rattle you up. We made 'em
behave the'rse'ves, an' I hain't a-blamin' you, but they er houndin'
airter us, an' ef I wuz you I wouldn't stay on this hill nary 'nuther
minnit longer than it 'ud take me to git offn it. When the boys git
wind er this ongodly bizness, they ull be mighty hard to hol'. I reckon
maybe you'll be a-gwine down about Atlanty. Well, you thes watch an'
see what stan' the Govern_ment's_ gwineter take 'bout Ab Bonner, an' ef
hit don't take no stan', you thes drap in thar an' tell 'em how you
seed er ole man name Teague Poteet, an' _he_ 'lowed that the revenue
fellers better not git too clost ter Hog Mountain, bekaze the
hidin'-out bizness is done played. The law what's good enough fer pore
little Ab Bonner is good enough fer the men what shot 'im."

They rode on until they came to Poteet's house.

"We'll thes go in an' git a snack," said Teague, "an' airter that your
best gait is a gallop."

But Woodward declined. He was dazed as well as humiliated, and he had
no desire to face Sis Poteet. He pictured to himself the scorn and
bitterness with which she would connect his presence on the Mountain
with the murder of Ab Bonner, and he concluded to ride on to
Gullettsville. He took Teague Poteet by the hand.

"Good-bye, old man," he said; "I shall remember you. Tell Miss
Sis--well, tell Miss Sis good-bye." With that he wheeled his horse and rode
rapidly toward Gullettsville.

It was a fortunate ride for him, perhaps. The wrath of Hog Mountain was
mightily stirred when it heard of the killing of Ab Bonner, and
Woodward would have fared badly at its hands. The wrath of others was
stirred also. The unfortunate affair took the shape of a political
issue, and thus the hands of justice were tied. But all this is a
matter of history, and need not be dwelt upon.

In the meantime, as the days passed, Teague Poteet became dimly and
uncomfortably conscious that a great change had come over Sis. One day
she would be as bright and as gay as the birds in the trees; the next,
she would be quiet, taciturn, and apparently depressed. As Teague
expressed, "One minnit hit's Sis, an' the nex' hit's some un else."
Gradually the fits of depression grew more and more frequent and lasted
longer. She was abstracted and thoughtful, and her petulance
disappeared altogether. The contrast resulting from this change was so
marked that it would have attracted the attention of a person of far
less intelli