“Oh, yes, they do.  They make ’em in those parts.  I know it by this same reason, that I bought a lot myself from a house in Connecticut, a town called Meriden, where they make almost nothing else but clocks—­where they make ’em by steam, and horse-power, and machinery, and will turn you out a hundred or two to a minute.”

The pedler had somewhat “overleaped his shoulders,” as they phrase it in the West, when his companion drew himself back over the blazing embers, with a look of ill-concealed aversion, exclaiming, as he did so—­

“Why, you ain’t a Yankee, air you?”

The pedler was a special pleader in one sense of the word, and knew the value of a technical distinction as well as his friend, Lawyer Pippin.  His reply was prompt and professional:—­

“Why, no, I ain’t a Yankee according to your idee.  It’s true, I was born among them; but that, you know, don’t make a man one on them?”

“No, to be sure not.  Every man that’s a freeman has a right to choose what country he shall belong to.  My dad was born in Ireland, yet he always counted himself a full-blooded American.”

The old man found a parallel in his father’s nativity, which satisfied himself of the legitimacy of the ground taken by the pedler, and helped the latter out of his difficulty.

“But here’s the whiskey standing by us all the time, waiting patiently to be drunk.  Here, Nick Snell, boy, take your hands out of your breeches-pocket, and run down with the calabash to the branch.  The water is pretty good thar, I reckon; and, strannger, after we’ve taken a sup, we’ll eat a bite, and then lie down.  It’s high time, I reckon, that we do so.”

It was in his progress to the branch that Ralph Colleton came upon this member of the family.

Nick Snell was no genius, and did not readily reply to the passing inquiry which was put to him by the youth, who advanced upon the main party while the dialogue between the pedler and the wagoner was in full gust.  They started, as if by common consent, to their feet, as his horse’s tread smote upon their ears; but, satisfied with the appearance of a single man, and witnessing the jaded condition of his steed, they were content to invite him to partake with them of the rude cheer which the good-woman was now busied in setting before him.

The hoe-cakes and bacon were smoking finely, and the fatigue of the youth engaged his senses, with no unwillingness on their part, to detect a most savory attraction in the assault which they made upon his sight and nostrils alike.  He waited not for a second invitation, but in a few moments—­having first stripped his horse, and put the saddle, by direction of the emigrant, into his wagon—­he threw himself beside them upon the ground, and joined readily and heartily in the consumption of the goodly edibles which were spread out before them.