On account of being so busy, neither Hank nor
me had hearn the wagon come along the road and
stop. The big man in the plug hat, he says, or
they was words to that effect, jest as serious:

"Why are you mauling the aged gent?"

"Well," says I, "he needed it considerable."

"But," says he, still more solemn, "the good book
says to honour thy father and thy mother."

"Well," I says, "mebby it does and mebby it
don't. But HE ain't my father, nohow. And he
ain't been getting no more'n his come-uppings."

"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord," the big
man remarks, very serious. Hank, he riz up then,
and he says:

"Mister, be you a preacher? 'Cause if you be,
the sooner you have druv on, the better fur ye.
I got a grudge agin all preachers."

That feller, he jest looks Hank over ca'am and
easy and slow before he answers, and he wrinkles
up his face like he never seen anything like Hank
before. Then he fetches a kind o' aggervating smile,
and he says: