They were, in a way, children whose cows had never recovered from the habit of jumping over the moon and who still worshiped at the secret shrine of Jack the Giant Killer.
The stranger was buried.

There was nothing upon him to indicate his name or residence.

Weeks passed with no news of the man who had slain him.

I had told of the gun with a piece of wood broken out of its stock, but no one knew of any such weapon in or near Lickitysplit.
One day Uncle Peabody and I drove up to Grimshaw's to make a payment of money.

I remember it was gold and silver which we carried in a little sack.