As we approached it, we were surprised to find that what we had taken
for a recent attempt at cultivation was the broken soil about an open
grave.

The cart was halted before the inclosure, and rejecting the offers of
assistance with the same air of simple self-reliance he had displayed
throughout, Tennessee's Partner lifted the rough coffin on his back,
and deposited it unaided within the shallow grave. He then nailed down
the board which served as a lid, and mounting the little mound of
earth beside it, took off his hat and slowly mopped his face with his
handkerchief. This the crowd felt was a preliminary to speech, and
they disposed themselves variously on stumps and boulders, and sat
expectant.

"When a man," began Tennessee's Partner slowly," has been running free
all day, what's the natural thing for him to do? Why, to come home.
And if he ain't in a condition to go home, what can his best friend
do? Why, bring him home. And here's Tennessee has been running free,
and we brings him home from his wandering. "He paused and picked up a
fragment of quartz, rubbed it thoughtfully on his sleeve, and went on:
"It ain't the first time that I've packed him on my back, as you see'd
me now. It ain't the first time that I brought him to this yer cabin
when he couldn't help himself; it ain't the first time that I and
Jinny have waited for him on yon hill, and picked him up and so
fetched him home, when he couldn't speak and didn't know me. And now
that it's the last time, why"--he paused and rubbed the quartz gently
on his sleeve--"you see it's sort of rough on his pardner. And now,
gentlemen" he added abruptly, picking up his long-handled shovel, "the
fun'l's over; and my thanks, and Tennessee's thanks, to you for your
trouble."