I knowed him my-se’f to refuse a calf far it onc’t—­yessir, a yearland calf—­and the feller offered him a double-bar’l’d pistol to boot, and blame ef he’d take it; said he’d ruther part with anything else he owned than his fiddle.—­But here I am, clean out o’ the furry agin.  Oh, yes; I was a-tellin’ about little Bob, with that old hat; and he had on a swaller-tail coat and a lot o’ fixin’s, a-actin’ like he was ’squire; and he had him a great long beard made out o’ corn-silks, and you wouldn’t a-knowed him ef it wasn’t far his voice.  Well, he was a-p’tendin’ he was a ‘squire a-tryin’ some kind o’ law-suit, you see; and John Wesley he was the defendunt, and Joney Wiles, I believe it was, played like he was the plaintive.  And they’d had a fallin’ out ‘bout some land, and was a-lawin’ far p’session, you understand.  Well, Bob he made out it was a mighty bad case when John-Wes comes to consult him about it, and tells him ef a little p’int o’ law was left out he thought he could git the land far him.  And then John-Wes bribes him, you understand, to leave out the p’int o’ law, and the ‘squire says he’ll do all he kin, and so John-Wes goes out a feelin’ purty good.  Then Wiles comes in to consult the ’squire don’t you see.  And the ’squire tells him the same tale he told John Wesley.  So Wiles bribes him to leave out the p’int o’ law in his favor, don’t you know.  So when the case is tried he decides in favor o’ John-Wes, a-tellin’ Wiles some cock-and-bull story ‘bout havin’ to manage it thataway so ’s to git the case mixed so’s he could git it far him shore; and posts him to sue far change of venue er somepin’,—­anyway, Wiles gits a new trial, and then the ’squire decides in his favor, and tells John-Wes another trial will fix it in his favor, and so on.—­And so it goes on tel, anyway, he gits holt o’ the land hisse’f and all ther money besides, and leaves them to hold the bag!  Wellsir, it was purty well got up; and they said it was John-Wes’s doin’s, and I ’low it was—­he was a good hand at anything o’ that sort, and knowed how to make fun.—­But I’ve be’n a tellin’ you purty much ever’thing but what I started out with, and I’ll try and hurry through, ’cause I know you’re tired.

’Long ‘bout the beginin’ o’ summer, things had got back to purty much the old way.  The boys round was a-gittin’ devilish, and o’ nights ‘specially ther’ was a sight o’ meanness a-goin’ on.  The mill-hands, most of’em, was mixed up in it—­Coke and Morris, and them ’at had jined meetin’ ’long in the winter, had all backslid, and was a-drinkin’ and carousin’ ’round worse ’n ever.

People perdicted ’at Bills would backslide, but he helt on faithful, to all appearance; said he liked to see a feller when he made up his mind to do right, he liked to see him do it, and not go back on his word; and even went so far as to tell Ezry ef they didn’t put a stop to it he’d quit the neighberhood and go some’rs else.  And Bills was Ezry’s head man then, and he couldn’t a-got along ’thout him; and I b’lieve ef Bills had a-said the word old Ezry would a-turned off ever’ hand he had.  He got so he jist left ever’thing to Bills.  Ben Carter was turned off far somepin’, and nobody ever knowed what.  Bills and him had never got along jist right sence the fight.