"And he's a scamp, you say. And why?"
"Else he would be coming back to Polly Ann."
"Mayhap he couldn't," said the stranger.
"Chauncey Dike said he went off with another girl into Kaintuckee."
"And what did Polly Ann say to that?" the stranger demanded.
"She asked Chauncey if Tom McChesney gave him the scalps he had on his
belt."
At that he laughed in good earnest, and slapped his breech-clouts
repeatedly. All at once he stopped, and stared up the ridge.
"Is that Polly Ann?" said he.
I looked, and far up the trail was a speck.
"I reckon it is," I answered, and wondered at his eyesight. "She travels
over to see Tom McChesney's Ma once in a while."
He looked at me queerly.
"I reckon I'll go here and sit down, Davy," said he, "so's not to be in
the way." And he walked around the corner of the house.
Polly Ann sauntered down the trail slowly, as was her wont after such an
occasion. And the man behind the house twice whispered with extreme
caution, "How near is she?" before she came up the path.
"Have you been lonesome, Davy?" she said.
"No," said I, "I've had a visitor."
"It's not Chauncey Dike again?" she said. "He doesn't dare show his face
here."
"No, it wasn't Chauncey. This man would like to have seen you, Polly
Ann. He--" here I braced myself,--"he knew Tom McChesney.
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