"Glad ter yere you say dat, fur de man dat's allus er talkin' 'bout how hones' he is, an' sorter wants ter prove 'fo' anybody dun 'sputed it, is 'spicious o' de fack hisse'f, an' de proof is 'tended ter 'vince his own mine ez much ez it is de folks dat's listenin' ter him. Dar wuz er man in ole North Kliney dat one day while ridin' long de pike come ter er toll gate. De gate wuz open, but dar wa'nt nobody at de house. De man looked way 'cross de fiel', he did, an' he seed de toll-gate keeper at work. He pitched out ober dar, er ha'f mile through de brilin' sun, an' gin de man five cents. 'You'se de hones' man I eber seed,' said de toll-gate keeper, 'ter come all ober dis hot groun' ter gin me five cents.' 'Yas,' said de traveler, sorter drawin' his mouf down like he been eatin' er green pear, 'nobody is mo' hones' den I is.' He went on er way, an' sah, in three munts from dat time he'd dun been sent ter de penytenchy fur stealin' er hoss." Potter laughed with good-natured uproar--laughed so loud that a bee martin, which had just alighted on the fence, flapped its wings in sudden fright and flew away. "I am not going about making a show of honesty, Alf," said Potter, when the echo of his merriment had died in the valley. "Glad to know dat, sah, mighty glad ter know it ef I'se gwine ter hab dealin's wid you. I ken tell de right sort o' man putty nigh ever' time. I'll go inter dis 'rangement, caze we'll hab er lot o' fun 'long wid our work." "Do you like to fish, Alf?" "Do er yaller dog like er fried chicken?" "Well, I rather think he does." "Uh, huh. Wall den, I likes ter fish." "Do you like to hunt?" "Do er muley steer like de sweet grass dat grows in de cornder o' de fence up ergin de bottom rail?" "It strikes me that he does." "Uh, huh. Wall, it strikes me dat I likes ter hunt." "Mr. Potter," said John, "the sun is er goin' down an' its erbout time we wuz eatin' uv er snack. You an' Alf jest keep on er talkin' while I go an' put the vidults on the table." "Dat's er monster fine boy," said Alf, when John had gone into the house. "He's sorter quiet now caze he ain't much erquainted, but airter while he'll argy er p'int wid you. Dar ain't nobody dat's got er better heart den he has, but lemme tell you, dat white boy ain't erfeerd o' ole Nick hisse'f." "I have known him but a few hours," Potter replied, "but I have become much attached to him. Where is your daughter. Alf?"