TWO SCOUTS. 163 



with uncombed hair and an over-prominent quid 

 of tobacco. He rode the usual "nag" of the 

 country, — an animal with more blood than bone 

 and more vice than beauty. He dismounted, 

 passed his bridle over his arm, and "squatted," 

 — the usual posture of the country. " The 

 Hun," the professional bully of all our culprits, 

 took this creature in hand, and presently came 

 in with a suggestion that I had better see him 

 alone. He followed me cautiously to one side, 

 leading his horse with him, and squatted again 

 when we had halted at a safe distance from 

 curious ears. 



" I 'm Pat Dixon. I live down Troy way on 

 the North Fork. Ye see, when this yer muss 

 fust broke out I did n't go to take no sides in 

 it. But Merryweather's men they come along a 

 little 'fore sun-up, last month was a year, an' 

 they taken the only nag we had left. I 'd had 

 him hid out all summer, but some denied skunk 

 done found him out. I heern the cusses a tramp- 

 in' roun' an' I was goin' to take a crack at 'em 

 for 'good mornin',' but, you see, I knowed if I 



