Part 9 (2/2)
”Well, the reason I ast,” said Abe, leaning his rifle against a tree, ”is bekaze they mought be more'n one Hightower runnin' loose.”
”You don't know him, then?”
”I know one on 'em. Any business wi' him?”
”Well, yes--a little. I was told he lived on this road. How far is his house?”
”Well, I'll tell you”--Abe took off his hat and scratched his head--”some folks mought take a notion hit wuz a long ways off, an'
then, ag'in, yuther folks mought take a notion that hit wuz lots nigher.
Hit's accordin' to the way you look at it.”
”Is Mr. Hightower at home?” inquired the stranger, regarding Abe with some curiosity.
”Well,” said Abe cautiously, ”I don't reckon he's right slam bang at home, but I lay he ain't fur off.”
”If you happen to see him, pray tell him there's a gentleman at his house who would like very much to see him.”
”Well, I tell you what, mister,” said Abe, speaking very slowly. ”You're a mighty nice young feller--anybody kin shet the'r eyes and see that--but folks 'roun' here is mighty kuse; they is that away. Ef I was you, I'd thes turn right 'roun' in my tracks 'n' let that ar Mister Hightower alone. I wouldn't pester wi' 'im. He hain't no fitten company fer you.”
”Oh, but I must see him,” said the stranger. ”I have business with him.
Why, they told me down in the valley that Hightower, in many respects, is the best man in the county.”
Abe smiled for the first time. It was the ghost of a smile.
”Shoo!” he exclaimed. ”They don't know him down thar nigh as good as he's know'd up here. An' that hain't all. Thish yer Mister Hightower you er talkin' about is got a mighty bad case of measles at his house. You'd be ableedze to ketch 'em ef you went thar.”
”I've had the measles,” said the stranger.
”But these here measles,” persisted Abe, half shutting his eyes and gazing at the young man steadily, ”kin be cotched twicet. Thayer wuss 'n the smallpox--lots wuss.”
”My dear sir, what do you mean?” the young man inquired, observing the significant emphasis of the mountaineer's language.
”Hit's thes like I tell you,” said Abe. ”Looks like folks has mighty bad luck when they go a-rippitin' hether an' yan on the mounting. It hain't been sech a monst'us long time sense one er them revenue fellers come a-paradin' up thish yer same road, a-makin' inquirements fer Hightower.
_He_ cotch the measles; bless you, he took an' cotch 'em by the time he got in hailin' distance of Hightower's, an' he had to be toted down. I disremember his name, but he wuz a mighty nice-lookin' young feller, peart an' soople, an' thes about your size an' weight.”
”It was no doubt a great pity about the revenue chap,” said the young man sarcastically.
”Lor', yes!” exclaimed Abe seriously; ”lots er nice folks must 'a' cried about that man!”
”Well,” said the other, smiling, ”I must see Hightower. I guess he's a nicer man than his neighbors think he is.”
”Shoo!” said Abe, ”he hain't a bit nicer'n what I am, an' I lay he hain't no purtier. What mought be your name, mister?”
”My name is Chichester, and I'm buying land for some Boston people. I want to buy some land right on this mountain if I can get it cheap enough.”
”Jesso,” said Abe, ”but wharbouts in thar do Hightower come in?”
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