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Next he digs into an inside pocket, hauls out a paper, spreads it on the table, and remarks: "Let's see, Mister jest about where are we now?" I gives him the cross street and the Broadway number, and he begins tracin' eager with his finger. Fin'lly he says: "All correct. Right in the best of the water." "Eh?" says I. "What's that you've got there?"
"Do you say," he asked, in an agitated voice, "that you have no manes of tracin' the murdher?" "None more than what we've tould you." "Did this Box belong to the murdhered man? I mane, do you think he had it about him at the time of his death?" "Ay, an' for some time before it," replied the woman. "It's all belongin' to him that we can find now."
But Miss Ann say that don't make no mind ter her that you is of one blood jes' the same. She even done up an' state that you air as clost kin ter her as the Buck Hill folks air. She air allus been a gret han' for geology an' tracin' back whar folks comed from." "She she didn't tell you to tell me that, did she, Uncle Billy?" Judith looked piercingly at the old man.
"See, that must be Sanibel Island the long green streak off there," says she, tracin' it out with a pink forefinger. "And that is Pine Island Sound, with the Caloos Caloosa " "Now sneeze and you'll get the rest of it," says I. "Caloosahatchee. There!" says she. "What a name to give a river! But isn't it wonderful down here, Torchy?" "Perfectly swell, so far as the scenery goes," says I.
I desired him, on the paril of his life, not to go out a tracin' or toards the mountains, good or bad." "You said you had a prayer that 'ud keep it back," observed the mother, "an' why didn't you say it?"
I've noticed thet when they can't take pleasure in extry smartness in a child, why, they make it up in tracin' resemblances. I suppose they's parental comfort to be took to in all kinds o' babies. I know I've seen some dull-eyed ones thet seemed like ez ef they wasn't nothin' for 'em to do but resemble.
But she lived a good while hopin' and prayin' to have you again. Then she gave up an' died. An' I may as well put in here your father died ten years ago. Well, I spent my time tracin' Milly, an' some months back I landed in Cottonwoods. An' jest lately I learned all about you. I had a talk with Oldrin' an' told him you was dead, an' he told me what I had so long been wantin' to know.
Hubbs was No. 5 on the kindly deeds list that Pyramid Gordon had wished on Steele and me. We was to apply soothin' acts and financial balm to all the old grouches that Pyramid had left behind him, you remember, on a commission basis. Seems J. Bayard had been tracin' Hubbs up by mail for more'n a month, and at that it was just by chance one of his letters had been forwarded to the right place.
"Well, do you know what she said to me once? 'Twas in her last sickness. She was tracin' back over old times, that year you an' I was together so much, goin' to singin'-school an' all. You had a good voice, Letty voice like a bird. You recollect that year, don't ye?" "Yes," said Letty. Her voice trembled a little. "I recollect."
Not that prospectors have anything to keep! Another time, in the rough region west of Ypsilon Mountain, I came upon a lean, wiry little old man leading a burro. He jerked at the lead rope in vain attempt to hurry the phlegmatic animal. "Com' on, durn ye," he squeaked as he tugged at the rope. "Don't ye know we're tracin' the float? Lead's right close now." But the burro was of little faith.
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