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It was two or three days before the inflammation entirely left his eyes and his nostrils got back their old sure power of discriminating between the many scents of the forest. He had learned his first lesson in the woods, which was that a well-behaved skunk when taking his morning walk, is not to be disturbed.

"Hope a skunk bites you an' you get howlin' hydrophoby," were the terms of Shorty's farewell. It was in the A. C. Company's big store at Dawson, on a morning of crisp frost, that Lucille Arral beckoned Smoke Bellew over to the dry-goods counter. The clerk had gone on an expedition into the storerooms, and, despite the huge, red-hot stoves, Lucille had drawn on her mittens again.

"What sort of stock is it?" he asked. "Humboldt County, California, spruce, and it's coarse and stringy and wet and heavy and smells just like a skunk directly after using. I'm afraid Skinner's going to start you at the bottom and skunk spruce is it. "Can you drive nails in it, Mr. Ricks?" "Oh, yes." "Does anybody ever buy skunk spruce, sir?"

"Speaking personal, I hope I don't never have no trouble with you, sheriff. I like you, understand?" "Have your little joke, Sinclair!" "I mean it. I know I'm usin' you like a skunk. But I got a special need, and I can't take no chances. Sheriff, I tell you out of my heart that I'm sorry! Will you believe me?" The sheriff smiled. "The same as you'll believe me when we change parts, Sinclair."

Perhaps if Ferguson had been sure he would ever do good work again, he wouldn't have taken himself off. That might have held him. He might have stuck by on the chance. But I doubt it. Don't you see? He loved the girl too much." "Thought he couldn't live without her," snorted Chantry. "Oh, no not that. But if she was right, he was the meanest skunk alive.

"Me," cried Jones, "I'm Victor Jones of Philadelphia. I'm the partner of a skunk by name of Stringer. I'm the victim of a British government that doesn't know the difference between tin plate and Harveyised steel. I'm a man on the rocks." The flood gates of his wrath were opened and everything came out, including the fact of his own desperate position.

"I laid off till he got his tires on an' I wouldn't lend him no tools to put 'em on with, neither. And then I looked up an' down the road an' seen there was no dust comin' an' we wouldn't be interrupted, an' I went up to the old skunk an' I says, 'I got a bill to colleck off you. Thankin' you in advance! an' then I shore collected. You ask anybody in Patmos.

"What do you want me to go out for?" he asked, amazed. Again his wife was silent. Her cheeks were bright scarlet, her eyes hard and dry. She looked at him steadily, and he got clumsily to his feet. "Sure I'll go out!" he said stupidly. "I'll do anything you want me to. I feel like a skunk about this it had sort of slipped my mind, Mart! Every fellow lets himself in for something like this."

Your coat looks three sizes too big for you, and when I last saw you it didn't look big enough." Peter hopped all around Johnny Chuck, looking at him as if he didn't believe his own eyes. "Oh, Johnny's all right. He's just been living on his own fat," said another voice. It was Jimmy Skunk who had spoken, and he now stood holding out his hand to Johnny Chuck and grinning good-naturedly.

"There's Pockface!" excitedly whispered Bud, who now had his eye to the crack between the two stones, "behind that big rock straight in front of us, the skunk. Now, just wait, until we get the order to fire," and his lips closed tightly. At this moment Ham, who crouched behind a rock by the side of Mr.