"You'd better hold yo' tongue, suh," retorted his wife, "it ain't yo'
air anyway, is it?"

"I reckon it's as much mine as it's Mr. Jonathan's," rejoined William,
who, having taken a double portion, had waxed argumentative. "An' what
I reason is that birds as is in the air ain't anybody's except the man's
that can bring 'em down with a gun."

"That's mo' than you could do," replied his wife, "an' be that whether
or no, it's time you were thinkin' about beddin' the grey mule, an' she
ain't in the air, anyhow. If I was you, Abel," she continued in a softer
tone, "I wouldn't let 'em make me so riled about Mr. Jonathan till I'd
looked deep in the matter. It may be that he ain't acquainted with the
custom of the neighbourhood, an' was actin' arter some foolish foreign
laws he was used to."

"I'll give him warning all the same," said Abel savagely, "that if I
ever catch him on my land I'll serve him in the fashion that he served
Archie."

"You don't lose nothin' by goin' slow," returned Solomon. "Old Adam
there is a born fire eater, too, but he knows how to set back when
thar's trouble brewin'."

"I ain't never set back mo' than was respectable in a man of ninety,"
croaked old Adam indignantly, while he prodded the ashes in his corncob
pipe with his stubby forefinger. "'Tis my j'ints, not my sperits that
have grown feeble."