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Lieutenant Parker, who was in charge of the old clubhouse on Lafayette Street, near the brigade headquarters, and which was being used by the government as a storehouse, and Thomas McGee, a veteran of the civil war, prevented what might have been a calamity.
The bidding commenced, and I remember well when the auctioneer said; "Three hundred eighty dollars once, twice and sold to Mr. Edward McGee." He was a rich cotton planter of Pontotoc, Miss. As near as I can recollect, I was not more than twelve years of age, so did not sell for very much. Servant women sold for $500 to $700, and sometimes as high as $800 when possessing extra qualifications.
And as I reached the door: "Parson?" "Well?" "Why er come in a bit to-night, will you? That is, if you've got time. And look here: don't you get the notion in your bean I'm just some little old two-by-four guy of a yegg or some poor nut of a dip. I'm not. Why, I've been the whole show and manager besides. Yep, I'm Slippy McGee himself." He paused, to let this sink into my consciousness.
"Let's see it," Hampden urged. McGee handed him the report. Hampden read it, whistled softly and passed it to Yancey, who read quite as slowly as he talked. A look of disappointment spread over his face. "It's a report, I reckon," he said slowly, "but it's about as satisfyin' as a mess of potato chips would be to a hungry cowhand. It's as thin as skimmed milk. Say, who won this fight?
The quick expression of pain that passed over his hard, dark face seemed only to heighten her pretty mischievousness. But he simply glanced again around the solitude, passed his hand over his wet sleeve, and said, "I must go now; your husband wouldn't like me being here." "He's workin' in the claim, the claim YOU gave him," said Mrs. McGee, with cheerful malice.
Three against one! McGee, despite his own predicament, felt like saluting the fellow's dare-devil courage. Larkin could take care of him alone, even should Porter and Fouche fail.
Where's McGee, I asked you?" Yancey stepped from the group and pointed up. "I reckon that's him up yonder," he said in the slow drawl that was doubly maddening at such a moment. "He blew in here a few minutes ago like a Texas Panhandle twister, ordered the greaseballs to roll his plane on the line, and was off before she was good and warm. I reckon "
Alexander T. Galt, M.P.P., finance minister; Hon. Alexander Campbell, M.L.C., commissioner of crown lands; Hon. Jean C. Chapais, M.L.C., commissioner of public works; Hon. Thomas D'Arcy McGee, M.P.P., minister of agriculture; Hon. Hector L. Langevin, M.P.P., solicitor-general for Lower Canada; Hon. William McDougall, M.P.P., provincial secretary; Hon.
"Dunno," McGee answered, looking at the puttee roll in his hand. "But I'll wager it's something that will force me to put this thing on again. I never got an order from headquarters in my life when I hadn't just finished taking off my putts." A heavy knock on the door. "Come in." An orderly entered, saluted smartly, and handed McGee a folded paper. "A note from Major Cowan, sir.
"Old Fuss Budget is goin' to have you shot for impersonatin' an officer in that scarecrow riggin'," he taunted. "You should have kept your old uniform on, like McGee." "Huh! Robinson didn't have one small enough for McGee," Larkin retorted. "They only have men's sizes in the American Army. What's wrong with this uniform?" "Uniform?" Yancey repeated. "Oh, I thought it was a horse blanket."
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