Uncle Jerry Carew had led David's horse down to the station ready saddled to meet him, according to agreement, and side by side they rode back, the old man beguiling the way with talk of mountain affairs most interesting to the young doctor, who led him on from tales of his own youthful prowess, "when catamounts and painters war nigh as frequent as woodchucks is now," until he felt he knew pretty well the history of all the mountain side.
"Yas, when I war a littlin', no highah'n my horse's knees, I kin remember thar war a gatherin' fer a catamount hunt on Reed's Hill ovah to'ds Pisgah. Catamounts war mighty pesterin' creeters them days. Ev'y man able to tote a gun war thar. Ol' man Caswell—that war Miz Merlin—she war only a mite of a baby then—her gran'paw, he war the oldest man in th' country; he went an' carried his rifle his paw fit in th' Revolution with. He fit at King's Mountain, an' all about here he fit."
"Did he fight in the Civil War, too?"
"Her gran'paw's paw? No. He war too ol' fer that, but his gran'son Caswell, he fit in hit, an' he nevah come back, neither. Ol' Miz Caswell—Cassandry Merlin's gran'maw, she lived a widow nigh on to thirty year. She an' her daughter—that's ol' Miz Farwell that is now—they lived thar an' managed the place ontwell she married Merlin."