He toted a
piece of slate around, and a pencil; and people wrote
questions on it and he wrote answers; but there warn't
anybody could read his writing but Brace Dunlap.
Brace said he couldn't read it very good, but he could
manage to dig out the meaning most of the time. He
said Dummy said he belonged away off somers and
used to be well off, but got busted by swindlers which
he had trusted, and was poor now, and hadn't any way
to make a living.
Everybody praised Brace Dunlap for being so good
to that stranger. He let him have a little log-cabin all
to himself, and had his niggers take care of it, and fetch
him all the vittles he wanted.
Dummy was at our house some, because old Uncle
Silas was so afflicted himself, these days, that anybody
else that was afflicted was a comfort to him. Me and
Tom didn't let on that we had knowed him before, and
he didn't let on that he had knowed us before. The
family talked their troubles out before him the same as
if he wasn't there, but we reckoned it wasn't any harm
for him to hear what they said. Generly he didn't
seem to notice, but sometimes he did.
Well, two or three days went along, and everybody
got to getting uneasy about Jubiter Dunlap. Every-
body was asking everybody if they had any idea what
had become of him. No, they hadn't, they said: and
they shook their heads and said there was something
powerful strange about it.
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