"Well, no, not adzactly, that is to say, Buck Fuson ain't got a-plenty. He
too lazy and shif'less to make co'n of his own; and he like too well to
filch co'n from them he puts his spite on. Buck Fuson he tuck a spite at
me, last time the raiders was up atter that Fuson hideout; jes set up an'
swore 'at I'd gin the word to 'em. You see, honey, he makes him up a spite
that-a-way--jes out o' nothin'--'cause hit's sech a handy thing to have
around when he comes to want co'n. Thar's some one already purvided to
steal from--some one 'at's done him a injury."

"Pappy! W'y, Johnny honey, sakes alive! What air ye ever a-gwine to do
'long o' that there thing?" For the old man had laboriously fetched out a
rusty wolf-trap, and was now earnestly inspecting and overhauling it.

"Whut am I a-gwine to do 'long o' this hyer, Cornely? W'y, I am jes
p'intedly a-gwine to set it in my grain-room. Buck Fuson air a bad man,
honey. There's two men's blood to his count. They cain't nothin' be done to
him for nair a one of 'em--you know, same's I do--'ca'se hit cain't be
proved in a co't o' law. But I kin ketch him in this meanness with this
hyer little jigger, and I'm a-gwine to do hit, jest ez sure ez my name's
John Overholt!"

"Oh, Pappy! A leetle bit o' co'n fer a man's chillen--"

"Now, Cornely honey, that's a womern! Buck Fuson is the wrong kind o' man
to have round. He's ben a stealin' my co'n now fer two weeks and mo'. Ef I
kin ketch him right out, and give him a fa'r shamin', he'll quit the Turkey
Tracks fer good. So fer as Elmiry and the chaps is consarned, they'll be
better off without Buck 'n what they is with him."