My natural reply would have been that I drank it, but there was
something about the query that suggested a hidden significance, and
something about the man that did not invite a shallow jest. And so,
having no other answer ready, I merely held my tongue, but felt as if
I were resting under an imputation of guilt, and that my silence was
being construed into a confession.

Just then a cold shadow fell upon my cheek, and caused me to look up.
We were descending into my ravine! I cannot describe the sensation
that came upon me: I had not seen it since it unbosomed itself four
years before, and now I felt like one to whom a friend has made some
sorrowing confession of crime long past, and who has basely deserted
him in consequence. The old memories of Jo. Dunfer, his fragmentary
revelation, and the unsatisfying explanatory note by the headstone,
came back with singular distinctness. I wondered what had become of
Jo., and--I turned sharply round and asked my prisoner. He was
intently watching his cattle, and without withdrawing his eyes
replied:

"Gee-up, old Terrapin! He lies aside of Ah Wee up the gulch. Like
to see it? They always come back to the spot--I've been expectin'
you. H-woa!"

At the enunciation of the aspirate, Fuddy-Duddy, the incapable
terrapin, came to a dead halt, and before the vowel had died away up
the ravine had folded up all his eight legs and lain down in the
dusty road, regardless of the effect upon his derned skin. The queer
little man slid off his seat to the ground and started up the dell
without deigning to look back to see if I was following. But I was.