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She brought coal and cobs from the shed, stopping each trip to get warm, for even to go the twenty steps required to get to the cobhouse was to experience more cold than she had ever encountered in all the days when she had plowed through the snows of Kansas winters while teaching; in fact, had the fuel been much farther from her door she would hardly have ventured out for it at all in a wind which drove one out of his course at every fresh step and so confused and blinded him that the points of the compass were a blank, and paths could not be located for the drifts, which ran in every direction the swirling wind chose to build them.
While she was at work the littlest feller, Johnny, who was building a cobhouse on the floor, yelps up like a terrier: "'Aunt Sally! Aunt Sally! Looker that big dog!" "Miss Sally, she turns around, an' what does she see but a big brown bear oh, a whackin' big feller! with his very nose at the open door." "Oh!" squealed Helen. "How awful!" cried Belle Tingley.
It'll be awful cold in th' mornin', and I do wish I could 'a' got home. Sadie's fires always go out." "Your cobs are closer to the house than mine; Sadie 'll get along all right." "How do you know where our cobhouse is now, Lizzie? You ain't seen it for over a year," Luther observed quietly.
We have just that as "evidence," and out of its meagre materials the biographer builds a cobhouse of conjectures as big as the Coliseum; conjectures which convince him, the prosecuting attorney, but ought to fall far short of convincing any fair-minded jury. Shelley's love-poems may be very good evidence, but we know well that they are "good for this day and train only."
But you have piles and piles of logs over there," she meant the cross-ties, "couldn't you build a sort of cobhouse ridge with those between your track and Uncle's, and cross behind the car? Don't laugh, please." But Winton was far enough from laughing at her. Why so simple an expedient had not suggested itself instantly he did not stop to inquire.
In a twinkling the corded piles of cross-ties had melted to reappear in cobhouse balks bridging an angle from the Utah embankment to that of the spur track in the rear of the blockading Rosemary. In briefest time the hammermen were spiking the rails on the rough-and-ready trestle, and the Italians were bringing up the crossing-frogs.
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