"Who is t'other young offender?"
"I'm a stranger to your parts," Levin replied. "Mrs. Cannon made me
come. I didn't want to."
"Are you afear'd?"
"Yes," Levin said.
"Well, I love the Captain better than I ever loved A male. But boys is
boys, and I hate to see 'em spiled. If you was nigger boys I wouldn't
keer a cent; but white's my color, and I don't want to trade in it."
They halted at a small, sharp-gabled brick house, of one story and a
kitchen and garret, at the left of the road, to which the corner of a
piece of oak and hickory woods came up shelteringly, while in the rear
several small barns and cribs enclosed the triangle of a field. A door
in the middle, towards Maryland, seemed very high-silled, and low
grated windows were at the cellar on each side of the steps.
The place had a suspicious appearance, and a pack of hounds in full cry
rushed from the kitchen, and, while in the act of leaping the stile and
palings, were arrested almost in mid air by a chuffy voice crying from
within:
"Hya! Down! Spitch!"
The whole pack meekly sneaked back to the house, whining low, and a few
blows of a switch and short howls within completed the excitement.
"What place is this?" asked Owen Daw.
"Devil Jim Clark's," said Sorden.
The dwelling stood about forty yards back from the road, drawing nearly
into the cover of the woods, and its little yard was made cavernous by
thick-planted paper-mulberry and maple trees, while a line of
cherry-trees and an old pole-well rose along the road and hedge.
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