"See here, Satyr," I said, abruptly; "where's Lessie?"
"She's 'ith Granny 'n' Gran'fer, I reck'n," he replied, with a
naturalness which for a moment caused me to wonder if he knew of their
departure. "Leas'ways, they lef' together," he added, after a brief
interval.
"Where have they gone?--what did they go for?--when are they coming
back?"
My companion tossed the last bit of cheese, rind and all, into his
mouth; inverted the sack and allowed all the crumbs to go the same way;
blew the sack up and burst it on his knee, and began to feel for his
pipe before he replied.
"I don' know whur they gone. They went to git Lessie 'way frum you. They
's com'n' back putty durn soon."
"I know where they've gone! It's to Snack Hollow!"
"Who tol' yo'?"
The look he bent upon me was a mixture of pity and contempt.
"Mrs. Toller. I've just come from there. She was uncivil at first, but I
made up with the children, then she said Granny had told her she was
going to Snack Hollow, where she had some folks. Where is this place,
Satyr? I'm going, too, next train."
"No ust, pardner."
He scratched the dirty stub of a match on a plank, and lit up.
"Granny--'n' Gran'fer--'n' Lessie--ain't a-nigh Snack Holler!"
The fateful sentence came out in jerks, between puffs. I thought he was
trying to scare me.
"You can't fool me, Jeff," I retorted, but my voice lacked assurance.
"How far is this Snack Hollow, and how soon can I get there?"
With the greatest air of insouciance the vagabond fiddler chanted, in
the same sing-song with which I had grown familiar:
"Raccoon got a ring-a-roun' tail,
Possum tail am bar';
Rabbit got no tail at all,
Jes' a little bunch o' ha'r!"
It was plainly immaterial to Jeff whether I believed him or not. Equally
plain it was that he knew what he was talking about.
"I believe you, Satyr. But who told you?"
He was instantly placated.
"Nobody to' me noth'n', but I ain't no plum' ejit."
"But Mrs. Toller--"
"Look-y-here, pardner!" Jeff squirmed around and thrust his goat-tuft
forward. "Granny tuk Lessie 'way frum these here parts on 'count o' you.
She 'peared to b'lieve whut I tol' 'er 'bout th' gel lyin' on yo', but
they ain't no manner o' 'pen'ence to be put in Granny's notions. She's
made up o' contrair'ness, anyhow. She jes' got to mull'n' 'n'
a-brood'n', 'n' whut 'ith her trouble 'ith Ar'minty 'n' all she jes'
'lowed it's well 's not to light out fur a spell. 'N' hev yo' got little
'nough sinse to 'low fur a minute she 'd tell that long-tongued Ab'gail
Toller whur she's a-goin'? Yes, she tol' Ab'gail Toller she's a-goin' to
Snack Holler--'n' fur why? 'Cus she knowed yo'd come a-nosin' 'roun'
axin' questions, 'n' th' fust place you'd go 'd be right thur."