nd
that he could ride behind him on Black Fan, Alfred slid down and
requested a neighboring farmer to permit him to ride home in his dead
axe wagon.

Uncle Joe did not get home until very late, claiming that he did not
know that Alfred had gone before and that he was searching the fair
grounds for him. Alfred's aunt gently chided him and advised that when
he went anywhere with his uncle thereafter he must remain until his
uncle came, but to urge his uncle to come early.

Uncle Joe was very sick the next day. Aunt Betsy said it served him
right. She hoped he'd "puke his innards out." Alfred was busy carrying
the afflicted man water by the gourdful from the spring. Uncle Joe would
not permit him to bring it in a pail: he wanted it cold and fresh.

"Dip her deep, son," he would say as he emptied the gourd and sent the
boy for more.

The sufferer grew worse and finally Aunt Betsy's womanly sympathy
impelled her to go to the sick man. She began by saying:

"I oughtn't to lift a hand to help you. Any man that will pour licker
down his stomach until he throws it up is a hog and nothing else."

Catching a whiff of that which had come up, she turned up her nose and
contemptuously continued:

"I don't see how any one can put that stuff down them."

She held her nose and turned her head in disgust. The sick man raised
his head and feebly answered:

"Well, it don't taste that way going down. Go away and let me die in
peace. I deserve to die alone; I don't want any of ye to pity me. Just
bury me is all I ask."

[Illustration: She Asked Him If He Were Not Afraid to Die]

The woman's sympathy entirely overcome her anger as the man well knew it
would. She begged to be permitted to do something for him. He was
obdurate. He was "not worthy of being saved"; all he desired was to "die
alone and be forgotten."

She asked him if he were not afraid to die.

"No, no" he answered, "I'm not afraid to die but I'm ashamed to."

Feeling his heart was softening, she begged to do something to relieve
him, a cold towel for his head or hot tea for his stomach. No, nothing
could do him any good, so he declared.

"If you don't have something done for you, you might die."

"Let me die, but if I ever get over this one, it's the last for Joe. I
hope every still house in Fayette County will burn down afore night and
all the whiskey ever made destroyed."

The wife exulted greatly at these words and renewed her entreaties to do
something