United States or Bolivia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


Trap and weasel together went flying over Mrs. Gammit's prostrate head. They brought up with a stupefying slam against the wall of the pig-pen, making the pig squeal apprehensively. Disconcerted and mortified, Mrs. Gammit scrambled to her feet, shook her petticoats into shape, and glanced about to see if the wilderness in general had observed her indiscretion. Apparently, nothing had noticed it.

Half-revived by the shock, the yellow body wriggled for a moment or two at the bottom of the barrel. As she watched it, a doubt passed through Mrs. Gammit's mind. Could Joe Barron have been right? Was it weasels, after all, that were taking her eggs? But she dismissed the idea at once. Joe Barron didn't know everything!

"Well, seein' as I hain't scairt ye much," she muttered dryly, "mebbe ye'll obleege me by coming back an' gittin' into my trap. But ye ain't agoin' to hev no more o' my good herrin'-tub, ye ain't." And she strode down the yard to get the tub. It was no longer a good tub, for the porcupines had gnawed two big holes in the sides, and Mrs. Gammit's own missiles had broken in the bottom.

Gammit's rare appearances were always abrupt, like her speech; and it was without surprise though he had not seen her for a month or more that Joe Barron turned to greet her. "It's at yer sarvice, jest as the gun would be ef ye wanted it, Mrs. Gammit an' welcome! But come in an' set down an' git cooled off a mite. 'Tain't no place to talk, out here in the bilin' sun." Mrs.

The bear had intended to retire behind the barn for a few moments, the better to weigh the situation. But at the sight of Mrs. Gammit's fluttering petticoat he began to feel annoyed. It seemed to him that he was being thwarted unnecessarily. At the corner of the barn, just under the jutting limb of the birch-tree, he stopped, turned, and sat up on his haunches with a growl.

In fact, nothing had happened to challenge her infallibility, nothing whatever, until she found that the bears were beginning to concern themselves about her. To be sure, there was only one bear mixed up in the matter; but he chanced to be so diligent, interested, and resourceful, that it was no wonder he had got himself multiplied many times over in Mrs. Gammit's indignant imagination.

Gammit's ears, the old turkey-cock fell heavily to the ground. He would have fallen straight upon the bear, but that the latter, his nerves completely upset by so much disturbance, was making off at fine speed through the bushes. The elation on Mrs. Gammit's face gave way to consternation. Then she reddened to the ears with wrath, dashed the offending gun to the ground, and stamped on it.

Gammit's impatience overcame her curiosity. With a gentle motion of her wrist she turned the pepper-pot over, and softly shook it. The eyes of the wildcat were fixed upon that wonderful, unattainable herring-tub, and he saw nothing else. But Mrs. Gammit in the vivid moonlight saw a fine cloud of pepper sinking downwards slowly on the moveless air.

"But ye don't know everythin', Joe Barron. It wa'n't no weasel as was takin' them there aigs!" "What were it then?" demanded the woodsman, incredulously. "It was two big porkypines an' a monstrous big wildcat," answered Mrs. Gammit in triumph. "Did ye ketch 'em at it?" asked the woodsman, with a faint note of sarcasm in his voice. But the sarcasm glanced off Mrs. Gammit's armour.

"But it wasn't the gun as done it. It was bilin' water. I've found ye kin always depend on bilin' water!" "I hope the gun acted right by you, however!" said the woodsman. Mrs. Gammit's voice took on a tone of reserve. "Well, Mr. Barren, I thank ye kindly for the loan of the weepon. Ye meant right. But it's on my mind to warn ye. Don't ye go for to trust that gun, or ye'll live to regret it.