"Well, sir," said he, "I'm gittin' ole, an' I reckon I ain't much nohow; I'm sorter like the grey colt that tried to climb in the shuck-pen--I'm weak, but willin'. Ef you'll jest whirl in an' make indication whar'in I can he'p, I'll do the best I kin." "I've come up here to look after a lot of land," said Woodward. "It is described here as lot No. 18, 376th district, Georgia Militia, part of land lot No. 11, in Tugaloo, formerly Towaliga County. Here is a plat of Hog Mountain, but somehow I can't locate the lot." The squire took the papers and began to examine them with painful particularity. "That 'ar lot," said Teague Poteet, after a while, "is the ole Mathis lot. The line runs right acrost my simblin' patch, an' backs up ag'in' my hoss-stable." "Tooby shore--tooby shore!" exclaimed the squire. "Tut-tut! What am I doin'? My mind is drappin' loose like seed-ticks from a shumake bush. Tooby shore, it's the Mathis lot. Mr. Wooderd, Mr. Poteet--Mr. Poteet, Mr. Wooderd; lem me make you interduced, gents." Mr. Woodward shook hands gracefully and cordially--Poteet awkwardly and a trifle suspiciously. "It seems to me, Mr. Poteet," said Woodward, "that I have teen your name in the papers somewhere." "Likely," replied Poteet; "they uv bin a mighty sight er printin' gwino on sence the war, so I've heern tell. Ef you'd a drappod in at Atlanty, you mought er seed my name mixt up in a warrant." "How is that?" Woodward asked. "Bekaze I bin a-bossin' my own affa'rs." Poteet had straightened himself up, and he looked at Woodward with a steadiness which the other did not misunderstand. It was a look which said, "If you've got that warrant in your pocket, it won't be safe to pull it out in these diggm's." Squire Pleasants recognised the challenge that made itself heard in Teague Poteet's voice. "Yes, yes," he said, in a cheerful tone, "our folks is seen some mighty quare doin's sence the war; but times is a-gittin' a long ways better now." "Better, hell!" exclaimed Sid Parmalee. What he would have said further no one can know, for the voluminous voice of Cohen broke in-- "Tlook ow-ut, t'ere, Sid! tlook ow-ut! t'at pad man kedge you!"