the ravine. He hardly noticed the conversation of the men until
something was said that touched upon the wish nearest his heart.

"I war studyin' 'bout lettin' Birt hev a day off," said the tanner.
"An' ye'll bide hyar."

"Naw, Jube--naw!" Andy Byers replied with stalwart independence to
his employer. "I hev laid off ter attend. Ef ye want ennybody ter
bide with the tanyard, an' keer fur this hyar pit, ye kin do it
yerse'f, or else Birt kin. _I_ hev laid off ter attend."

Andy Byers was a man of moods. His shaggy eyebrows to-day
overshadowed eyes sombre and austere. He seemed, if possible, a
little slower than was his wont. He bore himself with a sour
solemnity, and he was at once irritable and dejected.

"Shucks, Andy! ye knows ye ain't no kin sca'cely ter the old woman;
ye couldn't count out how ye air kin ter her ter save yer life.
Now, I'M obleeged ter attend."

It so happened that the tanner's great-aunt was distantly related to
Andy Byers. Being ill, and an extremely old woman, she was supposed
to be lying at the point of death, and her kindred had been summoned
to hear her last words.

"I hed 'lowed ter gin Birt a day off, 'kase I hev got ter hev the
mule in the wagon, an' he can't grind bark. I PROMISED Birt a day
off," the tanner continued.

"That thar's twixt ye an' Birt. I hain't got no call ter meddle,"