"Do it againQ Please, Uncle Bob!" he cried, wild with delight.

"Now if you was to help yo' Uncle Bob hook up that old mule of
hisn and ride home with him, fo' he's going pretty shortly, you
and Uncle Bob could do right much shootin' with this old rifle."
Mr. Crenshaw had appeared with a bundle, which he tossed into the
cart. Yancy turned to him. "If you meet any inquiring friends,
Mr. John, I reckon you may say that my nevvy's gone fo' to pay me
a visit. Most of his time will be agreeably spent shootin' with
this rifle at a mark, and me holdin' him so he won't get kicked
clean off his feet."

Thereafter beguiling speech flowed steadily from Mr. Yancy's
bearded lips, in the midst of which relations were established
between the mule and cart, and the boy quitted the Barony for a
new world.

"Do you reckon if Uncle Bob was to let you, you could drive,
sonny?"

"Can she gallop?" asked the boy.

Mr. Yancy gave him a hurt glance.

"She's too much of a lady to do that," he said. "No, I 'low this
ain't 'so fast as running or walking, but it's a heap quicker
than standing stock-still." The afternoon sun waned as they went
deeper and deeper into the pine woods, but at last they came to
their journey's end, a widely scattered settlement on a hill
above a branch.