he stuck out his hand. "Here!" he shouted. "Here!"
She was a tall, longfaced old woman in an antique black cloak. Her face was the color of a dead chicken's skin. When she saw him, she looked as if she suddenly smelled something bad. He darted at her and thrust the dime into her hand and dashed on without looking back.
Slowly his heart calmed and he began to feel full of a new feeling--like being happy and embarrassed at the same time. Maybe, he thought, blushing, he would give all his money to her. He felt as if the ground did not need to be under him any longer. He noticed suddenly that the country boys' feet were shuffling just behind him and almost without thinking, he turned and asked graciously, "You all wanta see this turkey?"
They stopped where they were and stared at him. One in front spit. Ruller looked down at it quickly. There was real tobacco juice in it. “Wheered you git that turkey?" the spitter asked.
"I found it in the woods," Ruller said. "I chased it dead. See, it's been shot under the wing." He took the turkey off his shoulder and held it down where they could see. "I think it was shot twice," he went on excitedly, pulling the wing up.
"Lemme see it here," the spitter said.
Ruller handed him the turkey. "You see down there
