nted to subscribe for the paper. Warren took his name and his money,
and when he was gone, turned to Lyman with a smile. "It has begun to
work already. The news of the deposit has flashed around town and they
are coming in for recognition. Oh, we're all right. Do you remember
those cigars you brought from the moonlight picnic? I believe I'll go
out and get some just like them. Why, helloa, here is our old friend."

Uncle Buckley was standing at the door. Lyman jumped up and seized the
old fellow by the hand and led him to a chair. "Look out, Sammy," he
said with an air of caution. "Don't shake me or you'll make me spill
the things Mother has stuffed me with. These here are harvest apples,"
he went on, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his brown jeans
coat and drawing forth yellow apples. "I'll jest put them here on the
table. And here is an Indian peach or two, the earliest ones I ever
saw. And look at this, a pone of cracklin' bread. Think of that, this
time of year. The fact is we killed a shote the other day. Mother
'lowed you couldn't git any sich bread in town and a feller has to
have somethin' to eat once in awhile. Now, I do wonder what this here
is," he added, tugging at his pocket. "Well, if it ain't the thighs and
the pully-bone of a fried chicken, I'm the biggest liar that ever
walked a log. Oh, I'm full up. She got up before day, mother did, and
stuffed me for an hour or more. Blamed if a peart youngster didn't
yell, 'Hi, there, sausage,' as I come in town. Now, I'm blowed if I
know what this is. Yes, sir, it's a pair of socks, knit under the
light of a tallow candle without the drappin' of a stitch. Oh, it
ain't no laughin' matter, boys; there ain't no fun in gettin' up at
four o'clock of a mornin' to be stuffed, I tell you. Well, I reckon
I'm reasonably empty now." He leaned back and looked at his cargo,
arrayed upon the table.

"I'll hire a wagon and have these things taken over to the house,"
said Lyman. "You tell her, bless her old heart, that I'm coming out
there pretty soon with enough stuff to smother both of you. Warren,
get those cigars."

"Sure. Is there anything else we want? Uncle Buckley, don't you want
something to drink?"

"Well, if you've got some right good buttermilk handy I mout take a
glass. But I don't want no licker, young man. I never touched it but
once, and then I swapped a fine young mare for an old mule, and I
swore then that I'd never tech it again. Go on and get your s