They had a dialogue, too, 'at was purty good. Little Bob Arnold was all fixed up--had on his pap's old bell-crowned hat, the one he was married in. Well, I jist thought die I would when I seed that old hat and called to mind the night his pap was married, and we all got him a little how-come-you-so on some left-handed cider 'at' had be'n a-layin' in a whiskey-bar'l tel it was strong enough to bear up a' egg. I kin rickollect now jist how he looked in that hat, when it was all new, you know, and a-settin' on the back of his head, and his hair in his eyes; and sich hair!--as red as git-out--and his little black eyes a-shinin' like beads. Well-sir, you'd a-died to a-seed him a-dancin'. We danced all night that night, and would a-be'n a-dancin' yit, I rickon, ef the fiddler hadn't a-give out. Wash Lowry was a-fiddlin' fer us; and along to'rds three er four in the morning Wash was purty well fagged out. You see, Wash could never play fer a dance er nothin' 'thout a-drinkin' more or less, and when he got to a certain pitch you couldn't git nothin' out o' him but "Barbary Allan"; so at last he struck up on that, and jist kep' it up, and _kep'_ it up, and nobody couldn't git nothin' else out of him! Now, anybody 'at ever danced knows 'at "Barbary Allan" hain't no tune to dance by, _no_ way you can fix it; and, o' course, the boys seed at onc't their fun was gone ef they couldn't git him on another tune.--And they'd coax and beg and plead with him, and maybe git him started on "The Wind Blows over the Barley," and 'bout the time they'd git to knockin' it down agin purty lively, he'd go to sawin' away on "Barbary Allan"--and I'll-be-switched-to-death ef that feller didn't set there and play hisse'f sound asleep on "Barbary Allan," and we had to wake him up afore he'd quit! Now, that's jes' the plum facts. And they wasn't a better fiddler nowheres than Wash Lowry, when he was at hisse'f. I've heerd a good many fiddlers in my day, and I never heerd one yit 'at could play my style o' fiddlin' ekal to Wash Lowry. You see, Wash didn't play none o' this-here new-fangled music--nothin' but the old tunes, you understand, "The Forkéd Deer," and "Old Fat Gal," and "Gray Eagle," and the like. Now, them's music! Used to like to hear Wash play "Gray Eagle." He could come as nigh a-makin' that old tune talk as ever you heerd! Used to think a heap o' his fiddle--and he had a good one, shore. I've heerd him say, time and time agin, 'at a five-dollar gold-piece wouldn't buy it, and I knowed him myse'f to refuse a calf fer it onc't--yes-sir, a yearland calf--and the feller offered him a double-bar'l'd pistol to boot, and blame ef he'd take it; said he'd ruther part with anything else he owned than his fiddle.--But here I am, clean out o' the furry agin!... Oh, yes; I was a-tellin' 'bout little Bob, with that old hat; and he had on a swaller-tail coat and a lot o' fixin's, a-actin' like he was a squire; and he had him a