"He yell, 'I didn't! I didn't!' But, Mister Jodie, there he stand, still holdin' my shotgun in his hand. And Mister Ward, he layin' there 'tween the corn rows. I tries some more to 'cide what to do. First I say I go get the doctor. Then I say hit's too late. He dead. Then I figgers hit out. I totes Mister Ward up to the lane and leans him over by the fence. He was gettin' cold and stiff a' ready, Mister Jodie. I lays his gun on the ground, right 'side of his boots. Then, I takes Little Stray and Sylvie and goes back to the house. That was Sunday just 'fore dark, Mister Jodie. I don't sleep nary wink all that night. I starts out early yestiddy mornin' to see can I get a squirrel. 'Course, Little Stray, he follow 'long. 'Fore we gets outta my yard, here come that white man with the peg leg. He say come quick and help to tote Mister Ward to the house. "We fetches him in the house and lays him on the bed. The peg-leg man sends me to tell Mister Wes. After that, I heads for the woods. I gets me a squirrel—first shot, Mister Jodie! Then, when you sends me in there with that kindlin' wood, I crams the little fox squirrel in Mister Ward's pocket!" "My Lord, Ned! You oughtn't to have done that!" "Mister Jodie, I just can't let the Lawmens get Little Stray! Look down there at him, Mister Jodie, a-holdin' the puppies and playin' on the floor with the chiliens. See, he done give your baby one o' his empty shells. That boy love empty shotgun shells better'n anything he ever see'd. He tromp up and down the roads lookin' for shells. Look at him! His poor back won't never be straight!" "Ned, you don't seem to understand!" "I hates to lie, Mister Jodie, but I gwine t' do it for Stray. This mornin' Mister Wes passes by early. Say he be fetchin' the Law! I gets plum worried!" "If Mister Wes does bring the sheriff, he—" "I wants you to take me to town, Mister Jodie, quick as you can. I gwine t' tell the Lawmens I killed Mister Ward 'fore I lets them take the boy!" "No, Ned! No! That wouldn't do! It'd just make matters Worse!" "Papa, come look here at my shell!" "Baby, don't bother me right now!" "See? Stray's got lots of them. He just give me one, and Shoogie one." "One what?" I could tell Papa wasn't half listening. "A done-shot shell, Papa. See? It's pretty yellow. See? And Stray may give me his best one, too!" Papa wouldn't take time to look. Stray emptied another handful of shells out of his pocket and spread them on the floor, but before I could decide which one to beg for, Papa called Stray to come over to the other side of the store and talk to him and Ned and Black Idd. "Come on, Stray. Com'ere. We've gotta straighten out just what happened in that cornfield Sunday evening before the sheriff and Mister Hawk and all of them get here. It'll be too late then." While Shoogie and I were standing all the shells up straight along a crack in the floor, Papa kept on telling Stray not to be scared and that everything was going to be all right.