Raften took the bow and arrow and made such a poor showing that he returned them with the remark.  “Sure a gun’s good enough for me,” then, “Ole Caleb been around since?”

“Old Caleb?  I should say so; why, he’s our stiddy company.”

“’Pears fonder o’you than he is of me.”

“Say, Da, tell us about that.  How do you know it was Caleb shot at you?”

“Oh, I don’t know it to prove it in a coort o’ law, but we quarr’led that day in town after the Horse trade an’ he swore he’d fix me an’ left town.  His own stepson, Dick Pogue, stood right by and heard him say it; then at night when I came along the road by the green bush I was fired at, an’ next day we found Caleb’s tobacco pouch and some letters not far away.  That’s about all I know, an’ all I want to know.  Pogue served him a mean trick about the farm, but that’s none o’ my business.  I ‘spect the old fellow will have to get out an’ scratch for himself pretty soon.”

“He seems kind-hearted,” said Yan.

“Ah, he’s got an awful temper, an’ when he gets drunk he’d do anything.  Other times he’s all right.”

“Well, how is it about the farm?” Sam asked.  “Doesn’t he own it?”

“No, I guess not now.  I don’t r’aly know.  I only hear them say.  Av coorse, Saryann ain’t his own daughter.  She’s nowt o’ kin, but he has no one else, and Dick was my hired man—­a purty slick feller with his tongue; he could talk a bird off a bush; but he was a good worker.  He married Sary and persuaded the old man to deed them the place, him to live in comfort with them to the end of his days.  But once they got the place, ‘twas aisy to see that Dick meant to get rid o’ Caleb, an’ the capsheaf was put last year, about his Dog, old Turk.  They wouldn’t have him ’round.  They said he was scaring the hens and chasing sheep, which is like enough, for I believe he killed wan ov my lambs, an’ I’d give ten dollars to have him killed—­making sure ’twas him, av coorse.  Rather than give up the Dog, Caleb moved out into the shanty on the creek at the other end of the place.  Things was better then, for Dick and Saryann let up for awhile an’ sent him lots o’ flour an’ stuff, but folks say they’re fixin’ it to put the old man out o’ that and get shet of him for good.  But I dunno; it’s none o’ my business, though he does blame me for putting Dick up to it.”

“How’s the note-book?” as Raften’s eye caught sight of the open sketch-book still in Yan’s hand.

“Oh, that reminds me,” was the reply.  “But what is this?” He showed the hoof-mark be had sketched.  Raften examined it curiously.

“H-m, I dunno’; ’pears to me moighty loike a big Buck.  But I guess not; there ain’t any left.”

“Say, Da,” Sam persisted, “wouldn’t you be sore if you was an old man robbed and turned out?”

“Av coorse; but I wouldn’t lose in a game of swap-horse, an’ then go gunnin’ after the feller.  If I had owt agin him I’d go an’ lick him or be licked, an’ take it all good-natured.  Now that’s enough.  We’ll talk about something else.”