T. S. Stribling

“ The drover made it twenty-four, the farmer twenty-five and the preacher twenty-three.
While the counting was in progress, Lou sniffed discreetly at the fat woman. Mrs. Boggus made a violent gesture at the animal.
“You no-'count dirty slut! Git away frum here!”' She even essayed a kick, and almost upset herself. This outburst had no connection whatever with the loss of the cattle. It was the instinctive hatred of all hill women for all dogs. Merely to see a dog makes a hill woman furious; merely to see a hill woman makes a hill dog yelp and flee the wrath to come. ”

“ The drover was overjoyed. He reached down and caught the burry head in his hands and pressed it against his knees.
“Oh, you gal!” he said roughly, in the voice a man uses to love his dog. “You lallapaloosa go-git-'em! The finest bitch in Ameriky!” He patted her flank heavily.
This was the collie's exceeding great reward. She waggled her tired tail, made a lick up at her master's face and lay down at his feet utterly exhausted.
Mr. Boggus, the minister and Lizzie Love were looking at master and servant.
“Look here,” cried the farmer. “What'll you take fer that dog, Sledger? ”

“ Tears came to the cattle buyer's eyes, and that was the way he said his prayers.
A sudden spattering of rain on the roof interrupted the reproach of his thoughts. The rain grew swiftly heavier and louder until it filled the whole night with its up roar. It bloomed and assailed the old house and amidst the roaring the sharp staccato click-click-click of leaks in the roof began to develop.
The noise of the rain was so great that the minister aroused himself long enough to say, “The Lord is shorely blessin' our settlemint with a good season, Brother Kinchin.” ”

“ Kinchin had suffered a reaction from his triumphs, and he answered the minister's bedtime conversation in monosyllables. His anger at Lizzie Love returned. The coming profit on his cattle lost its glow. It would mean merely so much more money, so many more bills in his wallet.
Mr. Kinchin climbed up into the thick hot feather bed with a feeling of the futility of money. He chose the preferred front side and stretched himself uncomfortably under the sheet. He lay looking at the minister with distaste. ”

“ He pulled up chairs and invited Grover to a game.
The goal of checkers in Wayne County is not only to defeat an opponent, but also to laugh at him. The idea is to make that laughter as roaring and sardonic as possible. It requires a man in perfect spirits and well grounded in all the Christian virtues to lose a game of checkers amiably in Wayne County.
After some five minutes of play, the hill man observed: “Well, well, Sledger, yore game is stoopendous. Jest when you got my men scatter so you could ketch 'em, why yore own men give out!” The old farmer roared with laughter. ”

“ Boggus winked at his wife.
“I guess it wuz my cattle-buyin'.” Grover stood in the dim light with a certain pathos in his face. Now that he was on his feet he hardly knew what to do.
Mr. Boggus laughed a trifle more considerately. “Oh, well,” he philosophized, “somebody loses in every trade an' game. Cain't both win. An' a man stan's the gaff without a whimper, Sledger. That's life fer a rale man, Sledger, stan'in' the gaff without a whimper.” ”

“ The drover glanced haplessly at Lizzie Love. The minister was drawing two chairs close together in the hallway. Lizzie Love stood glancing sidewise at young Kinchin and biting her lower lip. Mr. Boggus stood his ground solidly, waiting for his guest. At last Grover followed. When the two had withdrawn some little distance from the house the farmer said in a lowered tone, “You see, I was wantin' fer us to git away an' give Lizzie Love an' her preacher a chanst to spark a little—the nights air so short.” ”

“ The more outrageous the cheat a seller perpetrates the better business man he is and the more he will boast of the exploit. In Wayne County it is shameful to be bitten, but it is honorable to bite. “Caveat emptor”: “Let the buyer beware.”
And Mr. Boggus flung back his head and creaked with laughter and slapped his legs. This laughter was, one might say, Mr. Boggus's unearned increment.
Even the melancholy preacher was forced to smile at such a droll pass. “I guess you will hev trouble gittin' them cattle, Brother Kinchin. ”

“ Kinchin loudly denied this possibility. “I made this drivin' Texas broncos up through Arkansas an' Mississip', an' runnin' back Tennessee hawgs an' cattle to Memphis. They's money in it if a man keeps his eyes open.”
“Oh, then you come up here cattle-buyin'?”
“Well, I wouldn't min' buyin' a few cattle, though I ain't hurtin' to slap my bran' on none.”
“Oh, no!” agreed the old farmer dryly. “No cattle buyer is ever partic'lar anxious to buy cattle. They're all ridin' aroun' fur their health, an' to look at the scenery.” ”

“ Mr. Kinchin groped wildly for some possible clue to Lizzie Love's negation. He felt sure she had some serious reason for her mute advice. But he could not guess it and his hundred and ninety dollars were departing from him. He felt weak. He made a desperate effort to think of some reason for rescinding his trade, but found none. All the thousand and one objections which a cattle buyer can usually summon out of nothingness deserted him.
“Come over here and witness the count, Brother McCall,” said the farmer.
Brother McCall got slowly to his feet. He and the drover walked over together ”

“ I'm satisfied the youngster who was run off to Texas ten year ago couldn't possibly rustle a few perfec'ly clean cattle through a dad-rotted, tyrannical, overbearin', pig-headed quarantine!”
THE bitterness of this irony caused the rider to smile again at the man on the ground. The old farmer saw him and was correspondingly irritated, but he said nothing and stalked along at the head of the horse. ”

“ MR. BOGGUS looked around grimly at his guest. “I ricollec' what they run you off to Texas fur, ten year ago, Sledger.”
The tan on Mr. Kinchin's face grew darker. “Good Lord, Mr. Boggus, a man kin change a heap in ten year.”
The old hill man cleared his throat. “A man cain't change a-tall, Sledger. You air whut you air, an' so you'll stay tull they lay you in yore grave. God made his saints unto salvation, Sledger, and the sinners he created unto etarnal destruction. You cain't any more change whut God mapped out fur ye, than you kin lift yorese'f by the boot-straps, Sledger.” ”

“ The old farmer winked at the preacher again. “I'm calculatin' you paid a hundred an' ninety dollars fer so much wind in the woods, Sledger.”
“What do you mean?” asked Grover uncomfortably, and knowing what he did mean.
“I mean, Sledger, you've got jest as good a chanst to round up the shadders of them turkey buzzards yander as to round up them cattle o' mine.” All this was said in a voice more and more shaken with internal laughter. “Sledger, you shore ain't got a cobbler's chanst. Hey! Hey, Brother McCall, this is one o' them Texas cattle men come to Wayne County to skin us pore farmers.” ”

“ I figgered off six fer buzzards' bait, but I'll g'ar'ntee they ain't six dead. Howsomever, I'm willin' to sacrifice a little money an' stick to the truth, Sledger. Money ain't all they is in this world.”
The preacher was moved to speak on this congenial topic: “I don't reckon you'll fin' a honester man in Wayne County than Brother Boggus, Brother Kinchin. I don't believe he would misrepresent a single thing fer no earthly reward. ”

“ Here and there a plank had loosened and dropped out of the weather boarding, and a glance at the roof told that it leaked and no need of weather to prove it. In fact when a rain did come, there was a scurrying about the upper story with buckets and dishpans to protect the lower. ”