“No, thar ain’t; I pledge you my honour thar ain’t.”

“Well, Jess, if thar ain’t, you jest go in and see, and show Uncle Josey that you ain’t afeard.”

“Certainly. I ain’t afeard to go in.”

Saying which, the sheriff opened the door, leaving the key in the lock. “Now, Uncle Josey, what did I tell you? I knowed thar wa’n’t nothin’ in thar.”

“Maybe thar ain’t whar you are standin’; but jest le’s see you go up into that dark place in the corner.”

“Well, Uncle Josey,” said the unsuspecting sheriff, “I’ll satisfy you thar ain’t nothin’ thar either.” And he walked towards the “dark corner.” As he did so, the old man dexterously closed the door and locked it.

“Hello, thar!” yelled the frightened officer; “none o’ yer tricks, Uncle Josey. This is carryin’ the joke a cussed sight too far.”

“Joke! I ain’t a-jokin’, Jess: never was more in yearnest in my life. Thar ain’t nothin’ in thar to hurt you, though; that’s one consolation. Jest hold on a little while, and I’ll send some of the boys down to let you out.”

And, before the “sucked-in” sheriff had recovered from his astonishment, the pony and his master were out of hearing.

Uncle Josey, who was not as drunk as he appeared, stopped at the grocery, took a drink, again mounted the “Gin’ral,” and called the keeper of the grocery to him, at the same time drawing the key of the gaol from his pocket. “Here, Jeems, take this ’ere key, and ef the old man or any them boys up thar at the court-house inquires after Jess Runion, the sheriff, jest you give ’em this key and my compliments and tell ’em Jess is safe. Ketch ’em takin’ in old Uncle Josey, will yer? Git up, Gin’ral: these boys here won’t do to trust; so we’ll go into the country, whar people’s honest, if they is poor.”

The sheriff, after an hour’s imprisonment, was released, and severely reprimanded by the judge, but the sentence of Uncle Josey was never executed, as he never troubled the court again, and the judge thought it useless to imprison him with any hope of its effecting the slightest reform.