I'd as liv tackle
a young painter." This was Neaze's view.
"That's so," said Jo. "Do you remember the time he had here last fall,
with that braggin' hunter chap, Mc-Something, who came along with his
rifle, darin' all hands about here to shute with him? He had one of
them new peck-lock rifles, and nobody dared shute with him; and Bart
came along, and asked to look at the feller's gun, and said something
'bout it, and Mc-Somebody dared him to shute, and Bart sent over to
Haw's and got 'old Potleg,' that Steve Patterson shot himself with,
and loaded 'er up, and then the hunter feller wouldn't shute except
on a bet, and Bart hadn't but fifty cents, and they shot twenty rods
off-hand, and Bart beat him; and they doubled the bet, and Bart beat
agin, and they went on till Bart won more'n sixty dollars. Sometimes
the feller shot wild, and Bart told him he'd have to get a dog to hunt
where he hit, and he got mad, and Bart picked up his first half-dollar
and pitched it to Jotham, who put up the mark, and left the rest on
the ground."
"There come mighty near bein' trouble then, an' there would ha' ben ef
the Major hadn't took Bart off," said Bi.
And while these rough, good-natured men talked him over, Barton walked
off southerly, across the newly-shorn meadow, to the woods. Twilight
was in their depths, and shadows were stealing mysteriously out, and
already the faint and subtle aroma which the gathering dew releases
from foliage, came out like an incense to bathe the quick and healthy
senses of the wearied youth.
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