CHAPTER VI
"An' now," quoth Timberline Todd, "we 'll top off this feed of victuals with a flock of can peaches. I always did favor can peaches since once over to No Wood in the winter of Ninety—no, I reckon it must 'a' been in the late fall—that was the winter I froze my left laig ridin'"
"If you said can peaches," interrupted Andy Dorson, across the table, "that 's enough; I don't need no introduction to 'em personal."
The friend of can peaches scowled. His gaunt, leathery cheeks were sucked inward, and the drooping tips of his frizzled mustache twitched petulantly.
"The same I was declarin'," he took up his tale with measured emphasis, "it bein' the late fall of Ninety, an' Mis' Bonnie Blackburn specifyin' to hold a sociable to raise the dust for a Methody church, which there never was
