But his companion heeded him little, casting the phonograph at the foot of a tree, where the great horn swung wide, disconsolately.
"A imertation," said Tom, "is like I was just sayin'.

It ain't the real thing.
"Now look here, friend," he went on a moment later, "you've got to do like you said you would.

Of course, I know melons don't grow up here in the pine mountains, even if they was ripe yet; but you said you was comin' along to see fair play, and you got to do it." Dan Anderson looked at him queerly.

"Wait," said he; "it'll be night before long.

Then you go on up to the house, and prospect around a little.