Hugh Pendexter

“ News ter me."
"Wal, he has; jest as he has fer years," defied Truman, thrusting forward his strong jaw. "What of it?"
"Oh. nothin'," shivered Mr. Skillins.
But Mr. Huff had not served through four years of fighting to retreat at the first gun, and although not hungering for any words with his questioner, slowly averred: "Why, there ain't nothin' of it. Only, when a man breaks out like Clab does, year after year, an' names as a price fer knucklin' under that he be allowed ter carry his derned old flag in our precession, I say he's got a lot of brass—that's all." ”

“ Truman was fer the North. Clab won't never take no part in the day's doin's at all. Lawd, fellers.' Ter think he won't even go to the grange hall an' enjoy the baked-bean supper! No, sirree! Sayin' ter me a week ago, jest before he broke out, that he's licked all right, but ain't got no call ter help us mourn fer the fellers that walloped him. So I guess he'll never take no part in the day, except ter fire a salute over his father's grave. ”

“ As old Cap'en Peters fit in the Mexican War, both boys feel as if they had somethin' in common in his grave."
"Oh, we know all about that," sniffed Mr. Huff, displeased that the Pigeon Ridge man should succeed in shifting the conversation, "an' we've all seen Clab marchin' about four hundred feet behind the precession, ridin' a farm-hoss, as if he was defyin' the whole United States governingment. That ain't nothin' new. But now ye've ben sot on discussin' it, I'll say fer one he didn't ought ter be allowed ter wear his old gray uniform on that day. ”

“ The tall form of the other shook with suppressed emotion, and he found his brother's hand blindly, and was wringing it mightily, when his eyes again caught the gilt braid, and his mouth slowly closed in a straight line.
"No," he muttered, dropping his hand heavily; "it ain't writ that we can. ”