“‘Keep on hopin’, Tom,’ he heard the woice at his back. ‘Mebbe somethin’ll happen ’twixt now an’ to-morrow mornin’ that’ll let you free o’ your pack!’ “The sun come out hot, an’ the road was dusty. The load was heavy an’ they was a good many long hills. Time an’ agin Tom ’ud slow down. ‘Git up, ole hoss,’ he’d hear come from behind him. Then they’d be that pistol jabbin’ him. He’d make a face an’ pick up his gait. Time an’ agin he met parties ez was out huntin’ the murderer. Sometim’s he’d hurry by them; others he stopped an’ talked to, askin’ all about Si Berrybush an’ his escape, thankin’ ’em fer their adwice an’ ’lowin’ over an’ over agin he’d give his last cent jest to have the leetle man in his grasp. “Be noon he’d covered nine mile an’ reached the foot o’ the mo’ntain. “‘Now see here, Si,’ he sais, sais he, ‘you ain’t goin’ to kill your horse be overwork, are ye? S’posn I drop down in the road!’ “‘Nobody’s sorrier than I am fer your trouble, Tom,’ come the answer. ‘It’s really pitiful. But I’ll risk your givin’ out--I’ll risk it.’ “Then there was the pistol agin. “At the last house in the walley Tom stopped an’ got a loaf o’ bread be special permission. The woman wanted to hev a look at his pack, but he sayd no; what he had in it wasn’t worth lookin’ at. He was carryin’ low-down, mean, mis’able stock that wasn’t fit to show to no lady. Besides--the pistol was jabbin’ him--he hed to hurry on to git over the mo’ntain be sunset. An’ on he went. “Si begin laughin’ so hard it set the pack joltin’ up an’ down on Tom’s back an’ almost upset him. “‘That was a mean undercut you give me, Thomas,’ sais the murderer. ‘A gentleman should never abuse a gentleman behind his back!’ he sais. ‘Now s’posn you pass that bread in here.’ “‘But I got it fer meself,’ Tom wentures. “‘Did ye?’ answers Berrybush, pressin’ on the butt of the gun jest a leetle. ‘Well, s’posn ye pass it in anyway an’ dewote the rest o’ the afternoon to hopin’. Mebbe you’ll git it after all.’ “Tom passed it. “The road was steep an’ the way was rough in the mo’ntain. Strong ez he was an’ light ez was the murderer, the work begin to go heavy with him. But the pistol was allus at his back proddin’ him on. Oncet he stepped inter a chuckhole an pitched for’a’d, his hands jest savin’ him from strikin’ his face to the ground. He thot that all was up with him, fer the pack was jerked up on his head, wrenchin’ his shoulders most dreadful. He closed his eyes expectin’ to hear the crack o’ the gun an’ then go plungin’ on agin fer ever an’ ever. “Nawthin’ happened. He climbed to his feet kind o’ dissypinted, fer instead o’ his journey bein’ ended he hed to go limpin’ ahead. Si was a-cursin’ him dreadful. Tom walked like an ellyphant, he sayd, an’ was joltin’ his bones all out o’ j’int. Next time he stumbled the gun ’ud be cocked dead sure.