“Don’t go!” begged Thatch. “I’m hankerin’ for comp’ny. It wa’n’t Hester what started the trouble this time. It was Polcher. I was asleep at the first of it, but I reckon’ I didn’t miss much. An’ ye can lay to it, it was somethin’ of a eye-opener to me! Never’n my life seen Polcher like that afore. Nothin’ of the tavern-keeper ’bout him. No, siree! When they come through the door of his room, he was jest out’n-out ugly. He was askin’ Hester to tell what come of some job he’d sent him out on, an’ Hester opined the major wouldn’t thank him for peddlin’ his ’fairs round tap-rooms. “Whewee! Jest a streak of lightnin’, an’ Polcher had him by the throat an’ a knife at his weazen! He! He! Lonny knows now how I felt when he was chuckin’ me this mornin’. Ye never see a cock-o’-the-walk eat dirt an’ crawl like he did. Polcher made him say he was jest a yaller dawg. Made him swear he’d know his master another time. Then he took off his hat an’ slapped his face with it till the feather got busted. An’, although Lon’s throat was free of Polcher’s hand when his face was bein’ slapped, he stood mighty still an’ lam’-like an’ took it.” “And Hester told what he was asked? Tut, tut! I don’t believe it,” scoffed Jackson. “Sonny, I’m older then them mountings, but I ain’t no liar. No, siree! They don’t breed no liars in ol’ Maryland. I was wide awake an’ seen it an’ heard it jest as I’ve told. Lon knuckled under an’ said he’d took the word to the major.” “Erhuh? What next?” “Wal, that was the p’int that Polcher seen me in the corner an’ quit Lon to drag me to the middle of the floor, an’ it was the time I ’lowed it was best for me to act sleepy. Lon went back with him to the small room, an’ it was when they come out that I asked for a gallon, promisin’ to pay, an’ that Polcher treated me so p’izen mean.” A piercing whistle penetrated the glade with the incisiveness of a war-arrow. Jackson swung about to locate the source. The effect on Thatch was quite remarkable. For one thing the whistle seemed to drive the whisky fumes from his brain and leave him sobered and horribly frightened. Scarcely able to speak, he dragged himself to Jackson and huskily whispered: “Go, go! Keep shet on what I’ve said. It’s Polcher’s whistle. He’s lookin’ for me. If he sees me with ye, he’ll opine I’ve been blabbin’. He’ll cut my throat, jest as sure as he promised to cut Hester’s. Oh, Gawd! He’s comin’!” Jackson took him by the shoulder and shook him violently and murmured: “Stop it, you fool. Pretend to be asleep. Polcher won’t see me.” And, picking up his rifle, he glided into the bushes.