makes me real happy to know I’ve met up with a couple of public-spirited men that see it the same way I do.”
Uncle Sagamore spat again and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well sir,” he says, “it’s real nice of you to say that. Now, just what did you have in mind?”
“Why,” Dr Severance says, “I was thinking since there’s plenty of vacant land back in here in the trees, why don’t we just give ‘em a private burial and forget the whole shameful thing?”
Uncle Sagamore nodded. “Why, that’s a fine idea. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.” Then he stopped and thought about it again, and looked kind of doubtful. “Of course,” he went on, “a thing like that might run into quite a little work, what with the diggin’ an all, and I just don’t rightly see how me and Sam could spare the time away from the crop, workin’ practically night and day like we are.”
“Oh, I’d be glad to bear the expense of it,” Dr Severance says. “I feel kind of responsible, since I was the one discovered ‘em. What do you say to maybe a hundred dollars?”
“Fine,” Uncle Sagamore says. “Fine.”
But then he stopped, like he’d just thought of something and his face looked sad. He shook his head. “Well sir,” he went on, “it’s a shame. A downright shame. I thought there for a minute we had the answer, but we just can’t do it.”
“Can’t? Why not?” Dr Severance asked.
“Well, it’s kind of a personal matter,” Uncle Sagamore says, like he didn’t want to talk about it. “But you see, this here land’s been in my family quite a spell. Matter of fact, my pappy and grandpappy’s both buried on it. And I— Well, I know it may sound kind of silly, but to be truthful I’m afraid it might get to weighin’ on my mind later on, thinkin’ of them being buried in the same ground with a couple of low-down men that’d do a thing like shootin’ a rabbit out of season.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Dr Severance says. “It sure might, at that.” Then his face brightened up. “But say, just for the sake of argument, that if it did start to bothering your conscience later on. What do you figure it would cost to have your folks moved to a regular cemetery?”
“Why,” Uncle Sagamore says, “I expect about five hundred dollars.”
“Well, that sounds like a reasonable figure,” Dr Severance says. He counted some bills out of his wallet and handed them to Uncle Sagamore. “Six hundred altogether.”
He sure carried a lot of money around with him. It didn’t hardly make a dent on what was in the wallet. I could see that even from where I was. Pop and Uncle Sagamore looked at what was left, and then at each other.
“Well, I reckon that takes care of everything,” Uncle Sagamore says. He started to get up.
Then he stopped all of a sudden, looking kind of thoughtful, and hunkered down again. “Well sir, by golly,” he says, “do you know what we plumb forgot?”
Dr Severance looked at him real sharp. “Now what?”
“The sermon,” Uncle Sagamore says. “Ain’t no man deserves to be buried without preachin’, no matter what he done. We just naturally couldn’t send these two sinners to their last restin’ place without a minister. Couldn’t even think of it.”
“Minister?” Dr Severance says. “How the hell are we going to have a minister at a private funeral like this?”
“Well sir,” Uncle Sagamore says. “It’s easy. Seems like the luck is right with us all the way. It just happens my brother Sam here is a ordained minister of the gospel, and I know we could get him to say a few words.”
“Hmmmm,” Dr Severance says. “That is a piece of luck, ain’t it? And how much does his fee run?”
“Well,” Uncle Sagamore says, “as a usual thing, a hundred dollars a head.”
“That sounds like a nice round figure,” Dr Severance says, reaching for his wallet again.
“However, in this case,” Uncle Sagamore went on,
Uncle Sagamore spat again and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well sir,” he says, “it’s real nice of you to say that. Now, just what did you have in mind?”
“Why,” Dr Severance says, “I was thinking since there’s plenty of vacant land back in here in the trees, why don’t we just give ‘em a private burial and forget the whole shameful thing?”
Uncle Sagamore nodded. “Why, that’s a fine idea. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.” Then he stopped and thought about it again, and looked kind of doubtful. “Of course,” he went on, “a thing like that might run into quite a little work, what with the diggin’ an all, and I just don’t rightly see how me and Sam could spare the time away from the crop, workin’ practically night and day like we are.”
“Oh, I’d be glad to bear the expense of it,” Dr Severance says. “I feel kind of responsible, since I was the one discovered ‘em. What do you say to maybe a hundred dollars?”
“Fine,” Uncle Sagamore says. “Fine.”
But then he stopped, like he’d just thought of something and his face looked sad. He shook his head. “Well sir,” he went on, “it’s a shame. A downright shame. I thought there for a minute we had the answer, but we just can’t do it.”
“Can’t? Why not?” Dr Severance asked.
“Well, it’s kind of a personal matter,” Uncle Sagamore says, like he didn’t want to talk about it. “But you see, this here land’s been in my family quite a spell. Matter of fact, my pappy and grandpappy’s both buried on it. And I— Well, I know it may sound kind of silly, but to be truthful I’m afraid it might get to weighin’ on my mind later on, thinkin’ of them being buried in the same ground with a couple of low-down men that’d do a thing like shootin’ a rabbit out of season.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Dr Severance says. “It sure might, at that.” Then his face brightened up. “But say, just for the sake of argument, that if it did start to bothering your conscience later on. What do you figure it would cost to have your folks moved to a regular cemetery?”
“Why,” Uncle Sagamore says, “I expect about five hundred dollars.”
“Well, that sounds like a reasonable figure,” Dr Severance says. He counted some bills out of his wallet and handed them to Uncle Sagamore. “Six hundred altogether.”
He sure carried a lot of money around with him. It didn’t hardly make a dent on what was in the wallet. I could see that even from where I was. Pop and Uncle Sagamore looked at what was left, and then at each other.
“Well, I reckon that takes care of everything,” Uncle Sagamore says. He started to get up.
Then he stopped all of a sudden, looking kind of thoughtful, and hunkered down again. “Well sir, by golly,” he says, “do you know what we plumb forgot?”
Dr Severance looked at him real sharp. “Now what?”
“The sermon,” Uncle Sagamore says. “Ain’t no man deserves to be buried without preachin’, no matter what he done. We just naturally couldn’t send these two sinners to their last restin’ place without a minister. Couldn’t even think of it.”
“Minister?” Dr Severance says. “How the hell are we going to have a minister at a private funeral like this?”
“Well sir,” Uncle Sagamore says. “It’s easy. Seems like the luck is right with us all the way. It just happens my brother Sam here is a ordained minister of the gospel, and I know we could get him to say a few words.”
“Hmmmm,” Dr Severance says. “That is a piece of luck, ain’t it? And how much does his fee run?”
“Well,” Uncle Sagamore says, “as a usual thing, a hundred dollars a head.”
“That sounds like a nice round figure,” Dr Severance says, reaching for his wallet again.
“However, in this case,” Uncle Sagamore went on,
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