Buddy started and twisted a look over his shoulder. Then he turned about and fairly crept back upon the man, and looked searchingly up into his face. There was a timbre in Johnse's laugh that told the boy something. There was a note in that laugh that mated with a solitary hope in his own heart. It sounded like a knock for which he had been listening for ages.
"Whut--Johnse--whut?" The boy's whisper trembled and he laid two pleading hands on Johnse's sleeves and peered eagerly up into the man's eyes.
Hatfield grabbed Buddy's wrist and dragged him outside the cabin. Still holding him, he pointed the gun down across Hellsfork and over to where the balmy, warm sunshine made soft, dreamful pictures in black and white amid the tinted spurs and ridges of Southpaw.
"Buddy," he said, with profound, succinct accents, "yo' 'lowed I wus layin' back--but I wusn't, little Cap--I bin busy all th' time--an' now I got th' gates o' hell open fo' em--an' Tuesday when co't meets down at th' Junction, we'll drive em in with th' ole Scratch."
Overwhelmed, Buddy stared open-mouthed at Johnse, but he could not mistake. He knew that Johnse spoke true, and not waiting for further details, he broke loose and capered in a circle. He tossed his hat up in an abandonment of joy and kicked it about when it came down. He grasped a big rock in his exuberance, and tossed it several feet, astounding Johnse with his strength, and he rung Johnse's hand, too overjoyed for words.
Johnse returned to the kitchen, lighted a fire, and while the corn bread was warming he busied himself slicing the pork.
"Ded yo' say yo'd hev a pinch o' breakfast, Buddy?" he invited.
"Shore," answered Buddy. "I didn't 'low I was so hungry--lemme he'p yo' git th' snack, Johnse--I cud eat a bilt owl."
When the corn bread and the cane-molasses and the pork and black coffee were all on the table, the two sat down to the repast together, and Johnse proceeded to take Buddy into his confidence.
"Yo' hain't t' open yore haid, Buddy--nary a word, yo' heah?"
With his mouth full, Bud nodded understandingly. "Yo' seed thet feller whut went out o' heah? Thet's Plunkett--he's bin a spyin' down at th' Junction fo' me, goin' on fo' months now. I brought em up from Hazard jest fo' thet purpose. I tol' em to git a job at Hank Eversole's store ef he hed to work fo' nothin'. Well--Eversole doddled along with em fo' two weeks--then th' old sore-eyed dog offered Plunkett twenty dollars a month an' Plunkett tuk hit, yo' bet--he'd a tuk ten dollars, 'cause I bin a payin' em twenty-five a month out o' my proceeds from thes works, Buddy. I'm a goin' t' tell yo' all frum th' start, an' 'fore I finish yo'll be surprised. Yo' see, Bud--I alers knowed thet some skunk traitor led th' revenure on to yore pap, an' I alers hed a mind who hit wus, but I never said nothin'. I wus so shore I wus right thet three times I hed my gun on em--then somethin' told me maybe I wus mistaken--an' I let em go--but I learnt this mornin' thet I'm right----"
