ez he could never fur-get her.
An' Lord! how it tickled old man Bates ter read them sentiments--the
pride-ful old peacock! He would jes' stop an' push his spectacles back
on his slick bald head an' say, 'Ye hear me, Loralindy! he 'lows he'll
never furget the keer ye tuk o' him whenst he war shot an' ailin' an'
nigh ter death. An' no mo' he ought, nuther. But some do furget sech ez
that, Loralindy--some do!'"

An' them fellers at the mill, listenin' ter the letter, could sca'cely
git thar consent ter wait fur old man Bates ter git through his talk ter
Loralindy, that he kin talk ter every day in the year! But arter
awhile he settled his spectacles agin, an' tuk another tussle with
the spellin,' an' then he rips out the main p'int o' the letter. "This
stranger-man he 'lowed he war bold enough ter ax another favior. The
cuss tried ter be funny. 'One good turn desarves another,' he said. 'An'
ez ye hev done me one good turn, I want ye ter do me another.' An' old
man Bates hed the insurance ter waste the time a-laffin' an' a-laffin'
at sech a good joke. Them fellers at the mill could hev fund it in thar
hearts ter grind him up in his own hopper, ef it wouldn't hev ground up
with him thar chance o' ever hearin' the end o' that thar interestin'
letter. So thar comes the favior. Would she dig up that box he treasured
from whar he told her he hed buried it, arter he escaped from the attack
o' the miners? An' would she take the box ter Colb'ry in her grandad's
wagin, an' send it ter him by express. He hed tole her once whar he
hed placed it--an' ter mark the spot mo' percisely he hed noticed one
Chilhowee lily bulb right beside it. An' then says the letter, 'Good
bye, Chilhowee Lily!' An' all them fellers stood staring."

A light wind was under way from the west Delicate flakes of red and
glistening white were detached from the clouds. Sails--sails were
unfurling in the vast floods of the skies. With flaunting banners and
swelling canvas a splendid fleet reached half way to the zenith. But
a more multitudinous shipping still swung at anchor low in the west,
though the promise of a fair night as yet held fast.

"An' now," said Ozias Crann in conclusion, "all them fellers is
a-diggin'."

"Whut's in the box!" demanded Swof-ford, his big baby-face all in a
pucker of doubt.

"The gold an' silver he ought ter hev paid the miners, of course. They
always 'lowed they never tuk a dollar off him; they jes' got a long
range shot at hi