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"
Sometimes
the
law
can
’
t
be
foller
’
d
no
way
,
"
said
Pa
.
"
Not
in
decency
,
anyways
.
They
’
s
lots
a
times
you
can
’
t
.
When
Floyd
was
loose
an
’
goin
’
wild
,
law
said
we
got
to
give
him
up
—
an
’
nobody
give
him
up
.
Sometimes
a
fella
got
to
sift
the
law
.
I
’
m
sayin
’
now
I
got
the
right
to
bury
my
own
pa
.
Anybody
got
somepin
to
say
?
"
The
preacher
rose
high
on
his
elbow
.
"
Law
changes
,
"
he
said
,
"
but
’
got
to
’
s
’
go
on
.
You
got
the
right
to
do
what
you
got
to
do
.
"
Pa
turned
to
Uncle
John
.
"
It
’
s
your
right
too
,
John
.
You
got
any
word
against
?
"
"
No
word
against
,
"
said
Uncle
John
.
"
On
’
y
it
’
s
like
hidin
’
him
in
the
night
.
Grampa
’
s
way
was
t
’
come
out
a
-
shootin
’
.
"
Pa
said
ashamedly
,
"
We
can
’
t
do
like
Grampa
done
.
We
got
to
get
to
California
’
fore
our
money
gives
out
.
"
Tom
broke
in
,
"
Sometimes
fellas
workin
’
dig
up
a
man
an
’
then
they
raise
hell
an
’
figger
he
been
killed
.
The
gov
’
ment
’
s
got
more
interest
in
a
dead
man
than
a
live
one
.
They
’
ll
go
hell
-
scrapin
’
tryin
’
to
fin
’
out
who
he
was
and
how
he
died
.
I
offer
we
put
a
note
of
writin
’
in
a
bottle
an
’
lay
it
with
Grampa
,
tellin
’
who
he
is
an
’
how
he
died
,
an
’
why
he
’
s
buried
here
.
"
Pa
nodded
agreement
.
"
Tha
’
s
good
.
Wrote
out
in
a
nice
han
’
.
Be
not
so
lonesome
too
,
knowin
’
his
name
is
there
with
’
im
,
not
jus
’
a
old
fella
lonesome
underground
.
Any
more
stuff
to
say
?
"
The
circle
was
silent
.
Pa
turned
his
head
to
Ma
.
"
You
’
ll
lay
’
im
out
?
"
"
I
’
ll
lay
’
im
out
,
"
said
Ma
.
"
But
who
’
s
to
get
supper
?
"
