This last, as the picture persisted in widening, sweeping over unknown rivers, leaping towering mountain ranges not yet seen by white men, and promised to include all between the rising and setting suns. “A man would get drunk thinking on it,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes as if wakening from deep sleep. “Been takin’ a snooze?” greeted a voice. Jackson glanced up and beheld Old Thatch, owlishly contemplating him and weaving slightly from side to side in a manner that was reminiscent of tavern whisky. Jackson sat up and scowled blackly at the old man. “You’re the fellow who objected to my kicking that cur this morning. Clear out before I forget you’re a drunken old fool.” Thatch smiled forgivingly and chuckled softly. His bleared eyes were thoroughly amiable as he dropped to the ground and grunted in comfort at feeling himself securely anchored. “Lawd, but ye did sure give Lon his needin’s,” he mumbled. “Reckon Polcher now wishes ye’d finished the job. Such doin’s! Such doin’s!” Laying aside his animosity, Jackson surveyed him curiously. “But Polcher and Hester are great friends,” he protested. “Mebbe yas, mebbe no. He! He!” snickered Thatch, wagging his white head knowingly. “Ye see, ye don’t know what I know.” And he rumbled with laughter. “Oh, I reckon I know all you know,” taunted Jackson. “No, siree!” hotly denied Thatch. “Ye couldn’t. ’Cause why? ’Cause I was the only one in the tap-room when they rowed it. I was sleepin’ in the corner when their jawin’ woke me up. Lawdy, but there ain’t nothin’ but bloody belts atween them two!” “Oh, they’re always quarrelling,” said Jackson with a fine show of indifference. “What else can one expect from a drunken bully and a low-down tavern-keeper.” “Sonny, ye spoke the truth in a fashion. That Polcher treated me like dirt, yes, siree! Like common dirt! An’ all I asked for was a gallon. Yes, siree! Ye’ve hit the bull’s-eye in the centre. He is low-down. I’m Maryland stock. He ain’t nothin’ but a onery North Car’lina sand-hiller of a quarter-breed. He didn’t even dast to cross the mountings till better men had gone ahead an’ made a clearin’.” Then with ludicrous solemnity: “But ye’re wrong ’bout their always jawin’. They never struck fire till today. They had a clash this mornin’ afore ye come, Polcher ’lowin’ that Lon was too free-spoken, but it wa’n’t much. But what I seen just now had murder writ all over it. They was in Polcher’s little room, an’ the coloured boy was asleep ahind the bar. Lawdy, but I could tell things if I wanted to!” And the old reprobate hugged his knees and enjoyed his own confidences. “Bah! Hester is always trying to stir up a fight only to find he hasn’t enough guts to go through with it,” sneered Jackson, yawning elaborately and making to rise.