"We don't cure small-pox as easily as we do some things," he said. "I understand these people live some distance from town?" "Yes, on the Hillville pike--that is, you go that pike for a couple o' mile, 'n' then strike out a side road passin' my place." "Am I to go with you?" "Yes, my buggy's ready--" Uncle Billy stopped at the foot of the stair they had been descending, and squinted suspiciously up at John, one step above him. "But how'r' you goin' to git back? I can't tech you nor be a-nigh you after yo've handled the small-pox!" "I'll have my horse and buggy here in a day or two--from Jericho," mused Glenning. "I tell you. I'll get a vehicle from the nearest stable. Where is it--your nearest livery stable?" They came out on the pavement, side by side. "Yonder." Uncle Billy pointed with his pilgrim's staff. "Half way down the square where them men are settin' tilted back talkin' hard times--that's what they're doin' if I can't hear 'em. I know ever' blessed one of 'em from here. See the place? Got a big red hoss painted over the door. Ask for Steve Duncan or Lige Lane--they run it, 'n' are good men. Say I sent you. Yonder's my nag, hitched to that lamp post." The pilgrim's staff came swinging vigorously around to do its duty as an index, and caught Mr. Devil Marston's hat midway, knocking it into the dust of the gutter, where it rolled over a few times as knocked-off hats invariably do. The victim of this harmless accident would not, under ordinary circumstances, have taken it lightly. Mr. Hoonover made a motion to recover the property he had unintentionally mistreated, but Marston, cat-like, had the hat in his hands, brushing it with his sleeve, before Uncle Billy's wits could fully take in the situation. "Mind what you're about, you damned old buzzard!" he gritted, his small eyes glinting wickedly. "If you've got to carry a fishing pole around with you why don't you stay in the cornfield, where you belong?" Uncle Billy's booted feet began to go up and down. His straggling whiskers trembled from anger and he combed them with restless fingers as he fired back-- "I didn't go to do it, 'n' I's goin' to pick it up for you, you--you--you son of a nigger!"