‘You ain’t got nothing on me. ” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. “Alone, dear?” “Yes, aunt. Lucy? Come 177 on out. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. "The lash cuts to the bone.
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