Clenk had stepped into the boat and seated himself, the oars rattling
smartly in the rowlocks, the sound sharp on the misty air, as he laid
hold on them. "So far, so good," he exclaimed cheerily.
"Won't they be fur trackin' of _him_?" One of the moonshiners, whom
the child had not seen before, seemed disposed to rebuke this easy
optimism.
"What fur? They will think Bubby went over the bluff too," Clenk declared
definitely.
"There's nuthin' ter show fur it, though," Copenny joined the opposite
opinion.
"Nuthin' needed in that mixtry of horseflesh an' human carcass an'
splintered wood and leather," argued Clenk.
"Yes, they will hev ter gather up them remains in a shovel," acquiesced
Holvey.
The shadowy form of the doubter who had introduced the subject, thick-set,
stoop-shouldered, showed in its attitude that he was lowering and ill at
ease. "Waal, you-uns hev made a powerful botch of the simple little trick
of drawing a bead on a revenuer anyhow. Takin' one man fur another--I
never dreamed o' the beat! Copenny war so sure o' the man an' the mare!
_I_ never purtended to know either.
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