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Updated: May 2, 2025
Thar's no harm in 'em; bein' all bull-snakes, which is innocuous an' without p'ison, fangs, or convictions. "When Crawfish goes to cook, he dumps these folks oaten his clothes, an' lets 'em hustle an'play'round while grub's gettin'. "'These yere little animals, he says, 'likes their reecreations same as humans, so I allers gives 'em a play-spell while I'm busy round camp.
With her toothed knife, she carves, she saws some tiny shreds from the rotten animal; she tears off, cuts away what she deems best suited to the grub's entertainment. She collects all these fragments and mixes them with choice loam in the spots where the sanies abounds.
"Grub's ready, Bob," he said, laughingly; "and I reckon we'll not bother banging on the frying pan with a big spoon to-night, range fashion. Sit down, and get your pannikin ready for some of this bacon and meat. How does that coffee look?"
A layer of the same paste divides the bottom of the chamber from the low-ceilinged gallery, the work of the grub's active life. Lastly, the magnifying-glass reveals upon the walls of the cell a tapestry of woody fibres, very finely divided, standing erect and closely shorn, so as to make a sort of velvet pile.
"They come not!" said the widow, when restored to herself. "O Heavens! grant that Frederick is safe! Sister Anne, go up to the leads and look if anybody is coming." And up, accordingly, to the garrets Sister Anne mounted. "Do you see anybody coming, Sister Anne?" "I see Dr. Drench's little boy," said Sister Anne; "he is leaving a pill and draught at Miss Molly Grub's."
Here, there, in its immediate neighbourhood, each grub emits from its spinning glands short cables so slender that it takes an attentive lens to catch a glimpse of them. This is enough to ensure the equilibrium of the almost imponderable atom. The vegetarian meal now begins. The grub's length promptly increases from two millimetres to four.
I rear it in a deep pan, full of fine, dry sand, easy to excavate. The interment never goes very far. About a hand's breadth is all that the most progressive digger ventures upon. Most of the interred remain nearer still to the surface. Here, under a thin layer of sand, the grub's skin hardens and becomes a coffin, a casket, wherein the transformation sleep is slept.
Got tired of punchin' an' reckoned I'd get rich." Here he smiled and glanced at the hole. "How're yu makin' out?" He asked. "'Bout five dollars a day apiece, but that ain't nothin' when grub's so high. Got reckless th' other day an' had a egg at fifty cents." Hopalong whistled and glanced at the empty cans at his feet. "Any marshal in this burg?" "Yep. But he's one of th' gang.
"We saw your fire and thought we'd make for it," he explained. "I see your cooking outfit's still lying round." "It's at your service," Blake responded. "I'm sorry we can't offer you much supper, though there's a bit of a bannock and some flour." "We'll soon fix that," the man declared. "Guess you're up against it, but our grub's holding out." He turned to the driver.
For some time longer these two manipulate the morsel in concert, stripping it of fur or feather, trussing it and allowing it to simmer to the grub's taste. When everything is in order, the couple go forth, dissolving their partnership; and each, following his fancy, begins again elsewhere, even if only as a mere auxiliary.
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