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"
Surely
you
are
jesting
,
Mr
Stump
?
"
"
Young
fellur
!
"
emphatically
rejoined
the
hunter
,
without
making
direct
reply
to
the
question
.
"
It
air
now
nigh
all
o
'
six
yeer
since
Zeb
Stump
hev
stretched
his
ole
karkiss
under
a
roof
.
I
oncest
used
to
hev
a
sort
o
'
a
house
in
the
hollow
o
'
a
sycamore-tree
.
That
wur
on
the
Massissippi
,
when
my
ole
ooman
wur
alive
,
an
I
kep
up
the
's
tablishment
to
'
commerdate
her
.
Arter
she
went
under
,
I
moved
into
Loozeyanny
;
an
then
arterward
kim
out
hyur
.
Since
then
the
blue
sky
o
'
Texas
hev
been
my
only
kiver
,
eyther
wakin
'
or
sleepin
'
.
"
"
If
you
prefer
to
lie
outside
--
"
"
I
prefar
it
,
"
laconically
rejoined
the
hunter
,
at
the
same
time
stalking
over
the
threshold
,
and
gliding
out
upon
the
little
lawn
that
lay
between
the
cabin
and
the
creek
.
His
old
blanket
was
not
the
only
thing
he
carried
along
with
him
.
Beside
it
,
hanging
over
his
arm
,
could
be
seen
some
six
or
seven
yards
of
a
horsehair
rope
.
It
was
a
piece
of
a
cabriesto
--
usually
employed
for
tethering
horses
--
though
it
was
not
for
this
purpose
it
was
now
to
be
used
.
Having
carefully
scrutinised
the
grass
within
a
circumference
of
several
feet
in
diameter
--
which
a
shining
moon
enabled
him
to
do
--
he
laid
the
rope
with
like
care
around
the
spot
examined
,
shaping
it
into
a
sort
of
irregular
ellipse
.
Stepping
inside
this
,
and
wrapping
the
old
blanket
around
him
,
he
quietly
let
himself
down
into
a
recumbent
position
.
In
an
instant
after
he
appeared
to
be
asleep
.
And
he
was
asleep
,
as
his
strong
breathing
testified
:
for
Zeb
Stump
,
with
a
hale
constitution
and
a
quiet
conscience
,
had
only
to
summon
sleep
,
and
it
came
.
He
was
not
permitted
long
to
indulge
his
repose
without
interruption
.
A
pair
of
wondering
eyes
had
watched
his
every
movement
--
the
eyes
of
Phelim
O'Neal
.
