Haley, accustomed to strike the balance of probabilities between lies
of greater or lesser magnitude, thought that it lay in favor of the dirt
road aforesaid. The mention of the thing he thought he perceived
was involuntary on Sam's part at first, and his confused attempts to
dissuade him he set down to a desperate lying on second thoughts, as
being unwilling to implicate Liza.

When, therefore, Sam indicated the road, Haley plunged briskly into it,
followed by Sam and Andy.

Now, the road, in fact, was an old one, that had formerly been a
thoroughfare to the river, but abandoned for many years after the laying
of the new pike. It was open for about an hour's ride, and after that it
was cut across by various farms and fences. Sam knew this fact perfectly
well,--indeed, the road had been so long closed up, that Andy had never
heard of it. He therefore rode along with an air of dutiful submission,
only groaning and vociferating occasionally that 't was "desp't rough,
and bad for Jerry's foot."

"Now, I jest give yer warning," said Haley, "I know yer; yer won't get
me to turn off this road, with all yer fussin'--so you shet up!"

"Mas'r will go his own way!" said Sam, with rueful submission, at the
same time winking most Portentously to Andy, whose delight was now very
near the explosive point.

Sam was in wonderful spirits,--professed to keep a very brisk
lookout,--at one time exclaiming that he saw "a gal's bonnet" on the top
of some distant eminence, or calling to Andy "if that thar wasn't 'Lizy'