And his hide will come off easy once I get hold of him by the scruff of the neck." Yancy's speech was gentle and his lips smiling, but he meant a fair share of what he said.
"Sho', is that the way you do it ?" And round-eyed they gazed down on this fascinating stranger.
"I may have to touch him up with a tickler," continued Yancy, who did not wish to prove disappointing.

"I reckon you-all know what a tickler is ?" They nodded.
"What if Mr.Slosson totes a tickler, too ?" asked Keppel insinuatingly.
This opened an inviting field for conjecture.
"That won't make no manner of difference.

Why?
Because it's a powerful drawback fo' a man to know he's in the wrong, just as it's a heap in yo' favor to know you're in the right." "My father's got a tickler; I seen it often," vouchsafed Henry.
"It's a foot long, with a buck horn handle.

Gee whiz!--he keeps it keen; but he never uses it on no humans," said Keppel.
"Of course he don't; he's a high-spirited, right-actin' gentleman.
But what do you reckon he'd feel obliged to do if a body stole one of you-all ?" inquired Yancy.
"Whoop! He'd carve 'em deep!" cried Keppel.
At this moment Mrs.Cavendish appeared, bringing Yancy's breakfast.

In her wake came Connie with the baby, and the three little brothers who were to be accorded the cherished privilege of seeing the poor gentleman eat.
"You got a nice little family, ma'am," said Yancy.
"Well, I reckon nobody complains mo' about their children than me, but I reckon nobody gets mo' comfort out of their children either.