"You air er old thief, an' want me ter leave this possum so you ken git him."
"Come," said Potter, "there is no occasion for such language."
"This ain't none uv yo' er'fair, nuther," Juckels responded. "I'm goin' under thar, an' that's all thar is erbout it."
He threw his hat aside, kicked the whisky bottle into the river, got down on his hands and knees, and crawled under the rock. The men had turned to go away, when there issued from under the rock the most frightful noises--the yells of Juckels and the fierce shrieking of furious animals. Juckels rolled out from under the cliff. He was literally covered with wildcats. The men ran to his assistance. The animals ran back into their den. Juckels was unable to speak. He was bleeding from many wounds, and when he breathed, blood bubbled from a hole in his throat. Some time elapsed before a word was spoken.
"We must take him home," Potter said. "Cut down some saplings and we will make a stretcher."
They started on their burdensome and solemn march, and must have gone two miles, when Alf said:
"We mout ez well put him down now an' rest erwhile."
"No," replied Potter; "let us hurry on so that a physician may be summoned."
"Dar ain't no use'n er doctor," said Alf. "De man is dun dead."
So he was. They put down the stretcher. The sounds of hoofs attracted their attention.
"Yes," replied Potter, "and I will meet her and guide her away from this awful sight."
"You are the very man I want to see," cried Mrs. Forest when Potter approached within hailing distance. "I am on my way to your house to consult you," she added, reining up the horse when they met in the road. "I want to ask your advice about something. That good-for-nothing Bob Juckels has told Eva that he set fire to our house, and has declared that he will kill us all if we--I hardly know what all he didn't say, but I want to ask you if you think it best to have him arrested!"
"He is beyond the power of the law, Mrs. Forest. Yonder he lies dead."
Two more years, years without especial incident to the people who lived up Terrapin River, passed away. Everyone knew of John and Eva's betrothal, and as no one had any objections to offer, there came not a jar, not a harsh sound to disturb the smoothly flowing current of their affection. One evening, as Potter and John sat in the old house awaiting the return of Alf, who had gone to Sunset to make some small purchases, the young man, after many minutes of deep meditation, looked up and remarked: