"My reezuns for askin' you air, that if you ain't sure o' one, an' don't mind stretching' yourself on a bar-skin, thar's such a thing in my shanty entirely at your sarvice." "It is very kind of you. Perhaps I may have occasion to avail myself of your offer. In truth, I am not very confident of meeting with a friendly reception at the hands of your neighbour Holt--much less being asked to partake of his hospitality." "D'ye say so?" "Indeed, yes. From what I have heard, I have reason to anticipate rather a cold welcome." "I'deed? But,"--My companion hesitated his his speech--as if meditating some observation which he felt a delicacy about making. "I'm a'most ashamed," continued he, at length, "to put another question, that war on the top o' my tongue." "I shall take pleasure in answering any question you may think proper to ask me." "I shedn't ask it, if it wa'n't for what you've jest now said: for I heerd the same question put to you this night afore, an' I heerd your answer to it. But I reckon 'twar the _way_ in which it war asked that offended you; an' on that account your answer war jest as it should a been." "To what question to you refer?" "To your bisness out here wi' Hick Holt. I don't want to know it, out o' any curiosity o' my own--that's sartin, stranger." "You are welcome to know all about it. Indeed, it was my intention to have told you before we parted--at the same time to ask you for some advice about the matter." Without further parley, I communicated the object of my visit to Mud Creek--concealing nothing that I deemed necessary for the elucidation of the subject. Without a word of interruption, the young hunter heard my story to the end. From the play of his features, as I revealed the more salient points, I could perceive that my chances of an amicable adjustment of my claim were far from being brilliant. "Well--do you know," said he, when I had finished speaking, "I had a suspeecion that that might be your bisness? I don know why I shed a thort so; but maybe 'twar because thar's been some others come here to settle o' late, an' found squatters on thar groun--jest the same as Holt's on yourn. That's why ye heerd me say, a while ago, that I shedn't like to buy over _his_ head." "And why not?" I awaited the answer to this question, not without a certain degree of nervous anxiety. I was beginning to comprehend the counsel of my Nashville friend on the ticklish point of _pre-emption_. "Why, you see, stranger--as I told you, Hick Holt's a rough customer; an' I reckon he'll be an _ugly_ one to deal wi', on a bisness o' that kind." "Of course, being in possession, he may purchase the land? He has the right of pre-emption?" "'Taint for that. _He_ ain't a-goin' to _pre-empt_, nor buy neyther; an' for the best o' reezuns. He hain't got a red cent in the world, an' souldn't buy as much land as would make him a mellyun patch--not he." "How does he get his living, then?"