an' ef any of it ever touches that gal's fair name I'll kill tatlers as fast as they open the'r dirty mouths.” “That's the way to look at it, Pole,” Nelson Floyd said, as he turned to go; “but you'll never have anything to fear in that direction. Good-night.” “Good-night, Nelson. I'll see you in the mornin'. I ought to 'a' been in bed two hours ago.” XII WELL I hear that Sandy McHugh tuck his whippin' like a little man last night,” Pole remarked to Captain Duncan and Floyd the next morning at the store. “They say he made strong promises to reform, an', gentlemen, I'm here to tell you that I believe them White Caps are doin' a purty good work. The lickin' Sandy got last night from his neighbors an' well-wishers towards him an' his family is a-goin' to work a bigger change in him than a long trial at court at the state's expense.” “Well, they say he confessed to the stealing,” said the planter. “And a thing like that certainly ought to be punished in some way.” “I never stold but once in my life,” Baker laughed, reminiscently, “an' I was sorter drawed into that. I was goin' with a Tennessee drover down to Atlanta with a car o' hosses. Old Uncle Abner Daniel was along, an' me'n him always was sorter thick. We come to Big Shanty, whar the conductor told us we'd barely have time to run out to the side o' the road an' buy a snack to eat, an' me'n Uncle Ab made a dash fer the lunch-counter, run by a bald-headed Dutchman with a bay-window on 'im. Thar was a pile o' sandwiches on the counter marked ten cents apiece, an' we bought two. I noticed Uncle Ab sorter twist his face around when he looked in his'n, an' then I seed that the ham inside of 'em both wasn't any thicker'n a piece o' paper. “'Look here, Pole' said Uncle Ab, 'I bought a _sandwich_; I didn't agree to pay that fat thief ten cents o' my hard money fer two pieces o' bread that don't even smell o' meat.' “'Well, what you goin' to do about it?' says I. “'Do about it?' says he, an' then he sorter winked, an' as the Dutchman had turned to his stove whar he was fryin' some eggs, Uncle Ab stuck out his long fingers an slid a slice o' ham out o' the top sandwich in the stack an' slyly laid it betwixt his bread. I deprived the one under it of all the substance it held, an' me'n Uncle Ab was munchin' away when two passengers, a big man an' a little, sawed-off one, run up jest as the whistle blowed. They throwed down the'r dimes an' grabbed the two top sandwiches, an' we all made a break fer the train an' got in together. The fellers set right behind me'n Uncle Ab, an' when they begun to eat you never heard sech cussin'. 'Damn it, thar hain't a bit o' ham in mine!' the big feller said; an' then the little 'un ripped out an oath, an' reached up an' tried to git at the bell-cord. 'The damn pot-gutted thief didn't even _grease_ mine,' he said, an' they both raised windows an' looked back an' shook the'r fists an' swore they'd kill that Dutchman the next time they seed 'im.