He poured a drop more water into the top of his hat.

"Well, mother screamed and nearly fainted when she saw me. Such a
picnic you never saw. They kept it up all night. I thought the old
cove was gone off his chump. The old woman wouldn't let go my hand
for three mortal hours. Have you got the knife?"

He cut up some more tobacco.

"All next day the house was full of neighbours, and the first to come
was an old sweetheart of mine; I never thought she cared for me till
then. Mother and the girls made me swear never to go away any more;
and they kept watching me, and hardly let me go outside for fear
I'd--"

"Get drunk?"

"No--you're smart--for fear I'd clear. At last I swore on the Bible
that I'd never leave home while the old folks were alive; and then
mother seemed easier in her mind."

He rolled the pup over and examined his feet. "I expect I'll have to
carry him a bit--his feet are sore. Well, he's done pretty well this
morning, and anyway he won't drink so much when he's carried."

"You broke your promise about leaving home," said his mate.

Mitchell stood up, stretched himself, and looked dolefully from his
heavy swag to the wide, hot, shadeless cotton-bush plain ahead.