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Updated: May 12, 2025
Cal Saunders had our worst case of gummy ear up to a couple of years ago, and broke up two engagements by listening too much. But she doesn't do it any more. Clayt Emerson cured her. Something had to be done for the good of the town and Clayt, who lived on the same line with her, conceived the plan of letting Mrs. Saunders hear something worth while just to keep her busy and happy.
Cal hung on the line with her eyes bulging out, and confided the secret to all the friends she had. Finally on Friday night, Policeman Costello, who was in the deal, told Clayt that the expected had happened and that Mrs. Saunders had told him about the horrible incendiary plot which was being hatched. Saturday night came, and Costello refused to go to Clayt's store unless Mrs.
Early in November he went to his bank and drew from deposit two hundred and fifty dollars.... Then he went to call on Bones. "Mr. Bones," he said, "folks says old Clayt Mosier's a client of your'n." "He's given me some business, Mr. Baines." "Uh-huh!... Somethin' to do with title to a piece of timber over Higgins's Bridge way, wa'n't it?" "I'm sorry, Mr. Baines, but I guess you'll have to ask Mr.
Saunders insisted that crime was about to be committed and got so excited that she repeated Clayt's exact words in the middle of which a great light came to her, and she said she was going home. "I think you had better," said Clayt, "and I'll tell you something more. You listen to other people's affairs more than is good for you." But she hasn't since. Of course you don't have these troubles.
"So the magnum opus is finished at last," said Clayt Zoile, showing by his manner, as he joined us, that he at least had not received an invitation; "a precious specimen of Art it will prove, I doubt not, after all the outcry about it. 'Montes parturiunt' etc." "You'll lose your wish this time, Clayt," drawled Mounchersey, carelessly; "Mr.
Costello burst open the door, and when they all rushed down on the scene of the crime, they found Clayt and half a dozen of us manfully smoking up a box of stogies which a slick traveling man had unloaded on him. Mrs.
"Why dem Yankees, ob course dem dat cotched Mars Clayt." The Federal admitted they were "Yankees," but that now Jack had no master, that he was free. "Is dat so?" Then scratching his head musingly, Jack said at last, "I don know 'bout dat what you gwine do wid me, anyhow; what yer want?" He was told that he must go as a prisoner to headquarters first, and then dealt with as contrabands of war.
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