"I've got to carve this turkey, friend," said the boy to Bolles. "I'll do my best to help eat it," returned the school-master, smiling. "Misser Dlake," said poor Sam, "I solly you. I velly solly you." "Reserve your sorrow, Sam," said Dean Drake. "Give us your soup for a starter. Come," he said to Bolles. "Quick."

Next day and every day "Misser Dlake" went gayly about his business, at his desk or on his horse, vigilant, near and far, with no sign save a steadier keenness in his eye. For the Christmas dinner he provided still further sending to the Grande Ronde country for turkeys and other things.

They going kill you." "That's about the way I was figuring it," mused Dean Drake. "Misser Dlake," said the Chinaman, with appealing eyes, "I velly solly you. They no hurtee me. Me cook." "Sam, there is much meat in your words. Condensed beef don't class with you. But reserve your sorrows yet a while.

The superintendent came out of his office, following Sam to the kitchen. He gave no look or word to the buccaroos with their demijohn; he merely held his cigar sidewise in his teeth and walked with no hurry through the sitting-room. Sam took him through to the kitchen and round to a hind corner of the stove, pointing. "Misser Dlake," said he, "slove no bloke. I hear them inside.

Soon the drunkards strolled over, saying good-day, hazarding a few comments on the weather and like topics, and meeting sufficient answers. "Goin' to stay?" "Don't know." "That's a good horse you've got." "Fair." But Sam was the blithest spirit at the Malheur Agency. "Hiyah!" he exclaimed. "Misser Dlake! How fashion you come quick so?"

"I think," said Bolles, "Mr. Drake understood their meaning, Sam. I have noticed that at times he expresses himself peculiarly. I also think they understood his meaning." The Oriental pondered. "Me like Misser Dlake," said he. And drawing quite close, he observed, "They not nice man velly much."

In his kitchen that evening he and Bolles unpacked the good things the olives, the dried fruits, the cigars brought by the new superintendent for Christmas; and finding Bolles harmless, like his gentle Asiatic self, Sam looked cautiously about and spoke: "You not know why they laugh," said he. "They not talk about my meat then. They mean new boss, Misser Dlake. He velly young boss."