"Oh, as for that, jest some'at like myself. Thar's gobs o' game in the woods--both bar an' deer: an' the clarin' grows him corn. Thar's squ'lls, an' 'possum, an' turkeys too; an' lots o' fish in the crik--if one gets tired o' the bar an' deer-meat, which I shed niver do." "But how about clothing, and other necessaries that are not found in the woods?" "As for our clothin' _it_ ain't hard to find. We can get that in Swampville by swopping skins for it, or now an' then some deer-meat. O' anythin' else, thar ain't much needed 'bout here--powder, an' lead, an' a leetle coffee, an' tobacco. Once in a while, if ye like it, a taste o' _old corn_." "Corn! I thought the squatter raised that for himself?" "So he do raise corn; but I see, stranger, you don't understand our odd names. Thar's two kinds o' corn in these parts--that as has been to the _still_, and that as hain't. It's the first o' these sorts that Hick Holt likes best." "Oh! I perceive your meaning. He's fond of a little corn-whisky, I presume?" "I reckon he are--that same squatter--fonder o't than milk. But surely," continued the hunter, changing the subject, as well as the tone of his speech--"surely, stranger, you ain't a-goin' on your bisness the night?" "I've just begun to think, that it _is_ rather an odd hour to enter upon an estate. The idea didn't occur to me before." "Besides," added he, "thar's another reezun. If Hick Holt's what he used to be, he ain't likely to be very _nice_ about this time o' night. I hain't seen much o' him lately; but, I reckon, he's as fond o' drink as ever he war; an' 'tain't often he goes to _his_ bed 'ithout a skinful. Thar's ten chances agin one, o' your findin' him wi' brick in his hat." "That would be awkward." "Don't think o' goin' to-night," continued the young hunter in a persuasive tone. "Come along wi' me; an' you can ride down to Holt's in the mornin'. You'll then find him more reezonable to deal wi'. I can't offer you no great show o' entertainment; but thar's a piece o' deer-meat in the house, an' I reckon I can raise a cup o' coffee, an' a pone or two o' bread. As for your shore, the ole corn-crib ain't quite empty yet." "Thanks thanks!" said I, grasping the hunter's hand in the warmth of my gratitude. "I accept your invitation." "This way, then, stranger!"