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Updated: May 25, 2025
At that moment, Nora, of her own volition, could not have moved to save her life, but Lum speedily furnished the incentive for her to do so. Without an instant's hesitation he fired his rifle from the hip. The bullet from it cut the leaves not many inches from Nora's head. "Hippy! Oh, Hippy!" she screamed and ran, bullets clipping the leaves close by, which served to lend speed to her flying feet.
Our outfit, with McNulta, occupied a ten-chair table, while on the opposite side of the room was another large table, occupied principally by drovers who were waiting for their herds to arrive. Among those at the latter table, whom I now remember, was "Uncle" Henry Stevens, Jesse Ellison, "Lum" Slaughter, John Blocker, Ike Pryor, "Dun" Houston, and last but not least, Colonel "Shanghai" Pierce.
The small boy, who had climbed to the top of his fence, immediately joined the conversation: "Your girl's a winner, mister," he observed, critically. "Are you going to keep quiet?" demanded Brown, starting across the fence. "Sure," said the small boy, carelessly. And, settling down on his lofty perch of observation, he began singing: "Lum' me an' the woild is mi-on."
"Now's your chance, Jim!" he cried. "You always said you'd like to have a cut at it." "H'm!" muttered the other. "A 'double' o' that fifteen over-proof Jamaica of yours, Sin, would hit me in a tender spot tonight." "Lum?" murmured Sin Sin blandly. "No hate got." He resumed his seat on the tea-chest, and the raven muttered sleepily, "Sin Sin Sin." "H'm!" repeated the constable.
His crime had been stolen entrance into a house in Thrums by the chimney, with intent to rob; and, though this old-fashioned family did not see it, not the least noticeable incident in the scrimmage that followed was the prudence of the canny housewife. When she saw the legs coming down the lum, she rushed to the kail-pot which was on the fire and put on the lid.
I am as curious as a prong-horned antelope when there is a mystery, so put your nose to the ground, my good friend, and find the spot where this Mr. Werwolf, witch, or bear flies the canyon, and maybe, like the husband of ‘The Witch of Fife,’ we may find the ‘black crook shell,’ and with its aid fly out of this ’lum.”
But to Coe, Alethea Tweedie wasn't no human being at all, but an angel straight from heaven, and to think the angel hated him was almost more than he could bear. He turned crankier than ever, working off steam on Rau and Ah Lum, with twenty-five cents for every swear, and nothing at night but hymns.
Jock's to bring a cartful o' clay he's to mak the cats the morn; I'm to bide at hame frae the school, an' carry them in; an' my faither's to put up the lum. An' what is't I was gaun to say? ou ay tak it tak it, Elspeth; an', if he'll no gie ye it for naething, I'll keep a' the bawbees I get, to help ye to pay for't." Here he paused, fairly out of breath.
Dinner is ready on time. The household work goes on without a hitch or a tiniest jar. "Ah Sing say you pay me his money," announces this new heathen. If you are wise, you abandon your thoughts of fighting the outrage. You pay over Ah Sing's arrears. "By the way," you inquire of your new retainer, "what's your name?" "My name Lum Sing," the newcomer replies.
The fellow leaped to one side, threw a hand to his head and knocked off his hat in his effort to find out what had hit him, then quickly looked up. Nora Wingate found herself gazing down, not into the face of Hippy, but into the scowling, rage-contorted features of Lum Bangs.
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