The old man flinched like a horse prodded in a tender place. "Don't do that again, you might break it," he said. "There ain't nothing easier to break than a bottle full of old liquor. Let me see," he added, with an air of deep meditation. "It has been about five months since I renewed my youth; it was the night Turner was elected Sheriff. And I want to tell you, Zeby, that to a man who has seen fun and recollects it, that's a good while. We'll jest wait a minute before we open the ceremonies. You can never tell when a woman's clean gone. The chances are that she may forget something and come bobbin' back at any minute. And it might take me quite a while to explain. There are some things you can explain to a woman and some things you can't, and one of the things you can't, is why you ought to take liquor when she don't feel like takin' any herself. Well, I reckon their start was sure enough," he said, looking through the window. "Now, jest step out here in the dinin' room and make yourself at home, while I pump a pail of fresh water." Old Jasper put a pitcher of water on the dining room table. Sawyer sat with his arms resting on the board, and with a flask held affectionately in his hands. Old Jasper cleared his throat, and drawing up a large rocking chair, sat down. He said, as he looked at the flask, that he had not felt well of late, and that whisky would do him good. Sawyer would make no apology for drinking such liquor. Good whisky was to him its own apology. Life at best was short, with many a worry, and he did not see how a so-called moral code should censure a man for throwing off his troubles once in a while. The old man needed no persuasion to lead him on. And in the dim light of a lamp, placed upon the corner of an old red side-board, they sat glowing with merriment. Sawyer drank sparingly, but Jasper declared that it took about three fingers at a time to do him any good, and into the declaration the action was dove-tailed. He told a long and rambling story, relating to a time when he had driven a stage coach; a tickling recollection touched him and he leaned back and laughed till the tears rolled down through the time-gullies in his face. Sawyer snapped his watch. The old man told him to let time take care of itself. "That's what I'm doing," said Sawyer. "By the way, I've an idea that I'd like to go squirrel hunting. But I broke my gun the other day and sent it to the shop. Haven't got an old gun around, have you?" "There's an old muzzle-loader in there behind the door, standing there ready to break the leg of a dog that comes over to howl in the garden." "Can't shoot a pistol much, can you?" "Ain't much of a hand with a pistol, Zeby." "Haven't got one, have you?"