We all
like him. The boys declare they could elect him to the legislature
from this county if only he would let them, but he doesn't care a fig
for it."
"He is something of a dreamer, I think," Mostyn remarked, "and still
he's practical. He has a long head on him--never gets excited and
seldom makes a wrong move in a deal."
They were now nearing the cabin occupied by Tobe Barnett. It was a
most dilapidated shack. It was made of pine logs, the bark of which
had become worm-eaten and was falling away. The spaces between the
logs were filled with dried clay. It had a mud-and-stick chimney, from
the cracks of which the smoke oozed. It contained only one room, was
roofed with crudely split boards of oak, and was without a window of
any sort. Outside against the wall on the right of the shutterless
door was a shelf holding a battered tin water pail and a gourd.
Within, as the visitors approached nearer, was heard the grinding of
feet on the rough planks of the floor and the faint, tremulous cry of
a child. A lank young man appeared at the door. He wore a ragged,
earth-stained shirt and patched pants. His yellowish hair was tousled,
a scant tuft of beard was on his sharp chin, and whiskers of a week's
standing mottled his hollow cheeks.
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