The doctor took a few stitches in him at the garage before he come to, and tied up his head right pretty in a white bandage. We left Will to quiet the deputies and we put Uncle Benny in Doc’s car and carried him home to the Old Hen. Naturally, I figured it would set her to quarrelling. Instead, it just brought out all her sweetness. I can guess a man, but I can’t guess another woman.

“The pore ol’ feller,” she said. “I knowed he had it coming to him. What the devil throws over his back—. I knowed he’d kill hisself in that Ford car, cutting the fool and prowling. The biggest load is off my mind. Now,” she said, “now, by God’s mercy, when it did come to him, he got out alive.”

She begun fanning him with a palmetto fan where he lay on the bed, and Doc poured out a drink of ’shine to have ready for him when he come to. Doc’s hand was trembling. Uncle Benny opened his eyes. He eased one hand up to the bandage across his head and he groaned and grunted. He looked at Doc as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether or not to reach for his pistol. Doc put the ’shine to his mouth and Uncle Benny swallowed. Them wicked blue eyes begun to dance.

“Doc,” he said, “how will I get home when I’m drunk, now you’ve tore up my trained Ford?”

Doc broke down and cried like a little baby.

“I ain’t got the money to replace it,” he said, “but I’ll give you my car. I’ll carry the Little Giant line of remedies on foot.”

Uncle Benny said, “I don’t want your car. It ain’t trained.”

Doc said, “Then I’ll tote you on my back, anywheres you say.”

The Old Hen let in the bird-dogs, some of them limping a little, and they climbed on the bed and beat their tails on the counterpane and licked Uncle Benny. We felt mighty relieved things had come out that way.

Uncle Benny was up and around in a few days, with his head bandaged, and him as pert as a woodpecker. He just about owned Oak Bluff—all except the people that did like I figured, never did get over the idea he’d gone really crazy. Most people figured he’d had a mighty good lesson and it would learn him not to cut the fool. The Old Hen was as happy as a bride. She was so proud to have the Ford torn up, and no money to get another, that she’d even now and again pet one of the bird-dogs. She waited on Uncle Benny hand and foot and couldn’t do enough to please him.

She said to me, “The pore ol’ feller sure stays home nights now.”