Squire Buckalew's eyelids, despite his hard
endeavor to wink them away, and he turned from the
bed too late to conceal what had happened.
"There ain't any call to feel bad," said Eskew.
"It might have happened any time--in the night,
maybe--at my house--and all alone--but here's
Airie Tabor brought me to her own home and
takin' care of me. I couldn't ask any better way
to go, could I?"

"I don't know what we'll do," stammered the
Colonel, "if you--you talk about goin' away from
us, Eskew. We--we couldn't get along--"

"Well, sir, I'm almost kind of glad to think,"
Mr. Arp murmured, between short struggles for
breath, "that it 'll be--quieter--on the--"National
House" corner!"

A moment later he called the doctor faintly and
asked for a restorative. "There," he said, in a
stronger voice and with a gleam of satisfaction in
the vindication of his belief that he was dying. "I
was almost gone then. _I_ know!" He lay panting
for a moment, then spoke the name of Joe Louden.

Joe came quickly to the bedside.

"I want you to shake hands with the Colonel
and Peter and Buckalew."