was no more a-swingin' of Nance that
night. Harve toted her back over the
Cumberlan', an' Rich's kinsfolks tuk him
up ``Hell fer Sartain''; but Rich got
loose, an' lit out lickety-split fer Nance
Osborn's. He knowed Harve lived too
fer over Black Mountain to go home
that night, an' he rid right across the
river an' up to Nance's house, an'
hollered fer Harve. Harve poked his head
out'n the loft--he knowed whut was
wanted--an' Harve says, ``Uh, come in
hyeh an' go to bed. Hit's too late!''
An' Rich seed him a-gapin' like a chicken,
an' in he walked, stumblin' might'
nigh agin the bed whar Nance was
a-layin', listenin' an' not sayin' a word.

Stranger, them two fellers slept
together plum frien'ly, an' they et together
plum frien'ly next mornin', an' they sa'ntered
down to the grocery plum frien'ly.
An' Rich says, ``Harve,'' says he,
``let's have a drink.'' ``All right, Rich,''
says Harve. An' Rich says, ``Harve,''
says he, ``you go out'n that door an'
I'll go out'n this door.'' ``All right,
Rich,'' says Harve, an' out they
walked, steady, an' thar was two shoots
shot, an' Rich an' Harve both drapped,