But it didn't sound like real
laughing. He kicked open the door of the heater with one foot and
spit his wad of tobacco into the fire. Then, he could laugh
better. But he still sounded strange, like a frog that couldn't
croak. Or sort of like a rooster choking instead of crowing.
"Yeah. They do, Jodie. I'm seventy-odd years old, and I never
know'd a little young'un to lie. I killed Ward Lawson. I did! I
killed him!"
Mister Hawk reached over and patted my knee. "This baby's
tellin' the gospel truth! I didn't figger nobody seen me do it,
but I reckon that humpbacked little darkie seen me, all right."
"Mister Hawk, do you realize what you're saying?"
"Jodie, 'course I realize what I'm sayin'! I shot Ward late
Sunday evenin'! Had to. The fool, he scared my poor mule outta
her wits with that damn automobile of his'n! She ain't et a good
meal since he bought the devilish thing!"
"Mister Hawk, you say-"
"Sheriff, I'd do it again!"
"Step out here on the porch with me, Mister Hawk. I'll have
to take you-"
"Sheriff, I don't mind tellin' you where I done it.
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