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"You're a pair of plotters," cried Erie, "and being a weak, helpless girl I suppose I'll have to agree with you and submissively roast those birds to suit your taste." "A pile of good your talkin''ll do," she cried. "I'm goin' to talk things over with that boy with a hickory ram-rod, jest as soon as I feel he's proper asleep; that's what I'm goin' to do! Who's trainin' that boy, you er me?" she demanded. Sighing dolefully she arose, placed her treasured gold piece in the clock for safe keeping, and tying on her bonnet, left the house. She walked hurriedly down the path, thinking that perhaps she might be late for the opening hymn. As she was about to open the gate, a slender, sprightly old gentleman, dressed in long frock coat, stepped out from the trees bordering the road, and gravely lifting his shiny hat, bowed low, and said: "Your pardon, ma'am, I'm axin; but if ye'll permit me.".

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In one hand he carried a huge butcher-knife, in the other a long whetstone. More big knives glittered in the leather belt about his waist. "Jest sharpenin' my knives ag'in the hog-killin'," he explained, noting the stranger's startled look. "That's Croaker," laughed Erie. "Billy won't be far behind him. I had better go out and explain things, Frank." "Yes, asthma's that way—eases off—then comes back—hits you sudden." He glanced at the bottle. Hinter, understanding, poured him out another portion. Two pounds cheese..