uphill, where unseen automobiles and road-engines droned past
continually. 'A tarred road, she shoots every drop o' water into a
valley same's a slate roof. 'Tisn't as 'twas in the old days, when the
waters soaked in and soaked out in the way o' nature. It rooshes off
they tarred roads all of a lump, and naturally every drop is bound to
descend into the valley. And there's tar roads both two sides this
valley for ten mile. That's what I told Jim Wickenden when they tarred
the roads last year. But he's a valley-man. He don't hardly ever
journey uphill.'

'What did he say when you told him that?' Jabez demanded, with a little
change of voice.

'Why? What did he say to you when _you_ told him?' was the answer.

'What he said to you, I reckon, Jesse.'

'Then, you don't need me to say it over again, Jabez.'

'Well, let be how 'twill, what was he gettin' _after_ when he said what
he said to me?' Jabez insisted.

'I dunno; unless you tell me what manner o' words he said to _you_.'

Jabez drew back from the hedge--all hedges are nests of treachery and
eavesdropping--and moved to an open cattle-lodge in the centre of
the field.

'No need to go ferretin' around,' said Jesse. 'None can't see us here
'fore we see them.'