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Updated: June 1, 2025
"'Cause you're the Shepherd of Mutton Hollow, Pete says. Don't be scared, Dad. Pete knows. It's sure God's gold." The shepherd turned to the fireplace and dropped the letter he had written upon the leaping flames. The Postoffice at the Forks occupied a commanding position in the northeast corner of Uncle Ike's cabin, covering an area not less than four feet square.
Promptly as the hands touched ten minutes past eight he made his way once more to the corner of Grosvenor Gardens. A labourer, with corduroy trousers tied about the knee and a grimy, spotted blue handkerchief about his neck, approached him with unlit pipe and a request for a match. "Red Ike's gone along," he said, as Foyle supplied him. "Nobody else has been hanging round except Freddy.
"Say, Uncle Ike, don't you think the Fourth of July is sort of played out?" asked the red-headed boy, as he came to Uncle Ike's room on the morning of the 5th, by appointment, to demonstrate to the old man that he had not been quite killed by the celebration of the great day.
"How dare you speak, sir, till you are called upon for your defence!" cried Sir Francis. "Oh, all right, your worship!" growled Ike. "On'y you know how dark it weer." "Silence, man!" Plop! That was Ike's hand over his mouth again to enforce silence. "Go on, Philip," said Sir Francis quietly. "Yes, pa," cried the boy excitedly.
But the moment passed, and, though she did not realize it, it was caused by Ike's gun leaving its holster first. Her woman's fear urged her, and she raised a protesting hand. "Please please," she cried, her eyes dilating with apprehension. "What have I done that you should come here to quarrel?" Buck in the background smiled.
Higgins, Ike's mother, was at the shanty and she did her best to soothe and quiet him. She was a kind soul and capable, in her way, but she could not answer his questions satisfactorily. "Where are they?" he demanded. "Why did they go? Has anything happened? When are they coming back?" "I can't tell you just when, Mr. Ellery," replied Mrs. Higgins.
Ike's fear of "t' Law" was the superstition of a child. It was to him a great big man waiting to pounce upon you and "lug youse away." Indeed, I learned afterwards that he had stayed in bed for fear of being carried off surreptitiously. "'T is a lonesome spot I lives in," he had explained. "To steal from a blind man, Ike," I began, "is bad. Moreover, it doesn't bring any one any luck ever.
In one sense the entente campaign proved victorious, for they had a goodly catch; but in the division of the spoils it apparently turned out that it had been so arranged that Emile's share was to catch the fish, Karlek's to dry it, and Ike's to exchange it piecemeal for tobacco or "things for t' house," as he called them.
The shadows of evening were sifting through it, when Ike's mother went to the shop, much perturbed because the cow had not come, and she could not find Jube to send after her. "Ike kin go, I reckon," said the blacksmith. So Ike mounted his mare and set out through the thick white vapor.
"Well, I be blanked! I beg your pardon, Mr. Macgregor. Ike, you're a cool one. You've got the nerve of " Here The Kid began to laugh, and Shock, all unsuspecting of Ike's scheme for getting his boss out of the clutches of his spoilers, gazed from the one to the other with an air of such absolute perplexity that The Kid went off into immoderate fits of laughter. Ike's gravity remained unbroken.
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