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Updated: May 1, 2025
Tell both of 'em to be at my store at three o'clock, but don't tell neither t'other's to be there." At three o'clock Deacon Pettybone and Elder Hooper came face to face in Scattergood's place of business. "Howdy, gents?" said Scattergood. "Lookin' forward to bein' mutual grandads, I calc'late. Must be quite a feelin' to know you're in line to be a grandad." "Huh!" grunted the deacon.
Further on we came upon the tented domiciles of the owners of this herd. Our red-headed Russian guide appeased the clamors of the innumerable dogs who bow-wowed out from all sides of the wigwam-like tents of these North Russian nomad homes, while we Americans looked on in wonder. Here was the very counterpart of the American Indian buck and squaw home that our grandads had seen in Michigan.
"I reckon I'll put 'em a leetle furder out o' the way," he said, kicking the knife over the cliff; and, standing on a stone, he thrust them into a crevice high above his head. "Now, Jas, we'll fight this gredge out, as our grandads have done afore us." Lewallen and Stetson were man to man at last. Suspicion was gone now, and a short, brutal laugh came from the cliff. "I'll fight ye!
"We're here in the bottom of an ashet; there's more than one deserter from your tartan on the outside of it, and once they get on the rim they have, by all rules strategic, the upper hand of us in some degree. It's an old notion of our grandads that we could bar the passes."
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