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"Didn't hear nothing of the weddin' over at Los Huecos, did ye?" "No! Whose weddin'?" "Ross Turney, the new sheriff." "Ye don't say! Him that's been elected on purpose to round up the Tremper gang, hey? Who's his antagonist?" "Old man Miller's gal. He's celebratin' his election by gettin' spliced. I been expectin' of 'em across this way to-night, but I guess they took the Black Butte trail.
Went down my gullet like a buckshot down a ten-foot shaft. He struggled for air and continued; 'Here am I, says he, 'William Pemberton, celebratin' Christmas by dyeing my linin' green and smellin' like a recess in a country school. His ventilation give out again, whilest he worked his face into knots and flew his hands around.
"What be they celebratin'?" Solomon asked. "The Declaration o' Independence," the citizen answered. "It's a good idee," said Solomon. "When we git thar this 'ere ol' rifle o' mine 'll do some talkin' if it has a chanst." Church bells were ringing as they neared the city. Its inhabitants were assembled on the river-front.
The whole passel of them was on that one street of their'n, talkin' sixteen ounces to the pound. In the middle was Dutchy, drunk as a soldier-just plain foolish drunk. "Good Lord!" thinks I to myself, "he ain't celebratin' gettin' that bunch of buzzards, is he?" But I found he wasn't that bad. When he caught sight of me, he fell on me drivellin'. "Look there!" he weeps, showin' me a letter.
There's a hole blowed through a forty foot rock 's clean 's though 'twas done with Satan's own field-piece, sech 's Milton tells about. An' there's a steeple higher 'n our big one in Fair Haven. An' there's a church, 'n' a haystack. If the devil hain't done his biggest celebratin' 'n' carpenterin' 'n' farmin' round here, d'no 's I know where he has done it. Beats me, Capm; cleans me out.
But the next hankerin' thet comes over him wipes out the promise. I know.... But he's had good excuse fer this break. The boys in town began celebratin' fer October first. Great wonder Jack didn't come home clean drunk." "Dad, you're as good as gold," said Columbine, softening. How could she feel hard toward him? "Collie, then you're not agoin' back on the ole man?" "No."
What is all that noise?" as cries of "Murder! murder!" greeted my ear. "Why, I only just told you, my dear," she responded, still quite unmoved, "they've been celebratin' their silver weddin' or somethin' of the sort. It's the same every year. They both gets roarin' drunk, and then Mrs.
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