Abe
Shivers--you hain't heerd tell o' ABE? Well, you must be a stranger in
these mountains o' Kaintuck, shore.

"I don't know, stranger, as Abe ever was borned; nobody in these
mountains knows it 'f he was. The fust time I ever heerd tell o' Abe
he was a-hollerin' fer his rights one mawnin' at daylight, endurin' the
war, jes outside o' ole Tom Perkins' door on Fryin' Pan. Abe was left
thar by some home-gyard, I reckon. Well, nobody air ever turned out'n
doors in these mountains, as you know, an' Abe got his rights that
mawin', an' he's been a-gittin' 'em ever sence. Tom already had a
houseful, but 'f any feller got the bigges' hunk o' corn-bread, that
feller was Abe; an' ef any feller got a-whalin', hit wasn't Abe.

"Abe tuk to lyin' right naturely--looked like--afore he could talk.
Fact is, Abe nuver could do nothin' but jes whisper. Still, Abe could
manage to send a lie furder with that rattlin' whisper than ole Tom
could with that big horn o' hisn what tells the boys the revenoos air
comin' up Fryin' Pan.'

"Didn't take Abe long to git to braggin' an' drinkin' an' naggin' an'
hectorin'--everything, 'mos', 'cept fightin'. Nobody ever drawed Abe
Shivers into a fight. I don't know as he was afeerd; looked like Abe
was a-havin' sech a tarnation good time with his devilmint he jes
didn't want to run no risk o' havin' hit stopped. An' sech devilmint!
Hit ud take a coon's age, I reckon, to tell ye.

"The boys was a-goin' up the river one night to git ole Dave Hall fer
trickin' Rosie Branham into evil. Some feller goes ahead an' tells ole
Dave they's a-comin.' Hit was Abe. Some feller finds a streak o' ore
on ole Tom Perkins' land, an' racks his jinny down to town, an' tells a
furriner thar, an' Tom comes might' nigh sellin' the land fer nothin'.
Now Tom raised Abe, but, jes the same, the feller was Abe.

"One night somebody guides the revenoos in on Hell fer Sartain, an'
they cuts up four stills. Hit was Abe. The same night, mind ye, a
feller slips in among the revenoos while they's asleep, and cuts off
their hosses' manes an' tails--muled every durned critter uv 'em.
Stranger, hit was Abe. An' as fer women-folks--well, Abe was the ill
favoredest feller I ever see, an' he couldn't talk; still, Abe was
sassy, an' you know how sass counts with the gals; an' Abe's whisperin'
come in jes as handy as any feller's settin' up; so 'f ever you seed a
man with a Winchester a-lookin' fer the feller who had cut him