"I can't rightly say _now_," the old man drawled; "but--but I kin tell
you where we-uns lef' him. 'T war a awful bis'ness, that crackin' off
Briscoe--that warn't in the plan at all. We-uns war after the revenuer.
What right had he ter bust our still an' break up our wu'm and pour our
mash an' singlings out on the ground? Ain't it our'n? Ain't the corn an'
apples an' peaches our'n? Didn't we grow 'em?--an' what right hev the
gover'ment ter say we kin eat 'em, but can't bile 'em--eh? They b'long
ter we-uns--an' gosh! the gover'ment can't hender! But we never meant no
harm ter Briscoe. Lawd! Lawd! that warn't in the plan at all. But the
child viewed it, an', by gosh! I b'lieve that leetle creetur could hev
told the whole tale ez straight as a string--same ez ef he war
twenty-five year old. That deedie of a baby-child talked
sense--horse-sense--he _did_, fur a fack!"
"Where--where----" Lillian was using every power of her being to restrain
the screams of wild excitement, to sustain the suspense.
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