Chapter 77

           Itwaslesssurprise,thangratification,thatshoweditselfonthecountenanceofZebStump,ashedecipheredthewritingonthepaper.

           "Thatere’sthebackin’o’aletter,"mutteredhe."Tellsagoodishgristo’story;more’nwarwroteinside,Ireck’n.Beenusedforthewad’o’agun!Wal;sarvesthecussright,forrammin’downarifleballwi’apatchin’o’scurvypaper,i’steado’theproperanbessestthing,whichairabito’greasedbuckskin."

           "Thewritin’airinasheemalehand,"hecontinued,lookinganewatthepieceofpaper."Don’tsignerfyforthet.It’sbeensenttohimallthesame;anhe’sheditinpurzeshun.Itairsomethin’tobetukcareo’."

           Sosaying,hedrewoutasmallskinwallet,whichcontainedhistinderof"punk,"alongwithhisflintandsteel;and,aftercarefullystowingawaythescrapofpaper,hereturnedthesacktohispocket.

           "Wal!"hewentoninsoliloquy,ashestoodsilentlyconsidering,"Ikalkerlateashowthisolecoon’llbeabletounwindagoodgristo’thisclueo’mystery,tho’thurbeabito’thethreadbrokenhyuranthur,anabito’apuzzleIcan’tclurlyunderstan’.Themanwhohevbeenmurdered,whosomdiverhemaybe,waroutthurbythetpuddleo’blood,anthemanasdidthedeed,whosomdiverhebe,warastannin’behintthislocust-tree.Butforthemgreenhorns,Imoutagotmoreouto’thesign.Nowthurain’ttheghosto’achance.