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"Two fellers died this mornin' in that there room," said another man solemnly, pointing over his shoulder with a jerk of the thumb. "Ain't buried 'em yet. It's too rough." "What'd they die of?" asked Fuselli eagerly. "Spinal somethin'...." "Menegitis," broke in a man at the end of the line. "Say, that's awful catchin' ain't it?" "It sure is." "Where does it hit yer?" asked Fuselli.
The animal, usually so vicious, purred in delight, rubbing his nose against the girl's hand. "Air the little Flea wantin' the owl to tell her somethin'?" "Yep," replied Flea doubtfully. "And ye brought yer old Screechy a little present?" "Yep." "What?" "Some fagots to keep ye warm, Screechy." "Where be they?" "Here by my side." "Ye be a good Flea," cackled Screechy. "Be ye in trouble?" "Yep.
Louie is tryin' to make me out a millionaire, or somethin' like that, and I'm naturally interested." He tore the letter open, extracted a second epistle from its depths and read it over gravely. "Well, boys," he observed, grinning cheerfully as he tucked it away in his shaps, "my luck always did run in bunches I'm rich!"
"We don't get intimate with no nutriments except hog-boosum an' brown beans, of which luxuries we have unstinted measure, an' bein' as this is our third year in the country we hanker for bony fido grub, somethin' scan'lous. Yes, ma'am three years without a taste of fresh fruit nor meat nor nuthin' except pork an' beans. Why, I've et bacon till my immortal soul has growed a rind.
In one he was cookin' somethin' on a smelly oil-stove. In the other was his wife; but that room was all neat an' nice curtains looped back, carpet an' all that. She was half up on pillows, an' she had a black waist on, an' her hair pushed straight back, an' she was burnin' up with the fever. "'Set down an' talk to her, he says to me, 'while I get the dinner, will you?
Maud won't tell me, but I know it's somethin' old-fashioned and reminds me of my grandmother; or, maybe, it's my grandfather; come to think, I guess likely 'tis." Ruth grasped his meaning later when she tasted the pudding and found it flavored with New England rum. After dinner they adjourned to the parlor. Maud, being coaxed by her adoring father, played the piano. Then she sang.
"Somethin' 's happened, an' he's stopped to help her," groaned the old lady, in the middle of what I had found to tell her about a rumor of disaffection with the minister of a town I merely knew by name in the weekly newspaper to which Mrs. Todd subscribed. "You step to the door, dear, an' look if you can't see 'em."
"I reckon the worst of it's over," remarked Sandy, after a time; "but this here rain ain't goin' to stop fer an hour or more, and I vote that to while away the ted-ium of this here interval some one o' you shorthorns tells us a yarn. You're all good liars, and yuh ought to be able to make somethin' up if yuh can't rec-lect nothin' thet really happened."
"Sure, you'll soon be all right an' runnin' about like a two-year oul'!" She turned to Henry. "He's an awful man for wantin' to be doin' things, an' it's sore work tryin' to get him to sit still the way the doctor says he's to sit. Always wantin' to be up an' doin' somethin'! Aren't you, Uncle Matt?" "Ay, daughter, I am. I was always the lad for work!..."
The mountains ain't big enough for both of us to go rangin' forever. We had to lock horns some day. An' I say, God help Tex Calder!" He turned abruptly to the rest of the men. "Boys, I got somethin' to tell you that Shorty jest heard. Tex Calder is after us." There came a fluent outburst of cursing. Silent went on: "I know jest how slick Calder is.
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