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Toby sat up excitedly, and shaking Charley into wakefulness, asked: "Does you hear un? Does you hear un?" "Hear what?" asked Charley, sleepily. "I don't hear a thing." "Hear the stillness!" explained Toby. "The water's not lappin'! The bay has fastened over! By to-morrow, whatever, we'll be leavin' here for Double Up Cove!" "Hurrah!" shouted Charley, now thoroughly awake. "Isn't it great, Toby!
And the Chief must be ten times worse. How he keeps his countenance demure as my grandmother's cat lappin' cream.... I say, the Transvaal Dutch; they call themselves the true Children of Israel, don't they?
"Howdy," replied the Texan, dryly. "You take my advice an' lay low here in the bad lands an' they won't ketch you. I said it right in the Long Horn yeste'day mornin' they was a bunch of us lappin' 'em up.
"Take a fool's advice, Prince. There's a gunbarrel road leads out of town for the north. Hit it pronto. Stay with it till you come up with Webb's herd. You won't see his dust any too soon." "I guess you're right, Reb," agreed Prince. "You know I'm right. Just now you've got the boys bluffed, but it isn't going to last. They'll get busy lappin' up drinks. Quite a crowd of town toughs will join 'em.
But that boy, Skert Lawton, showed me a play I hadn't a notion about. It's that darn play shanty I set up for the boys. I feel that mad about it I got a notion closing it right down. It worried me startin' it. It worries me more now. You see, I guess it's come of me lappin' up the ha'f-baked notions you find wrote in the news-sheets.
"'Very good, says Hardenberg, mincing an' silly like a chessy cat lappin' cream. 'Very good, ma'am; your orders shall be obeyed. He sure said it just like that, as if he spoke out o' a story-book. An' I kicked him under the table for it.
"While I'm lappin' up the drink, a guy walks in 'n' goes through a door at the other end of the booze parlor. "'Where does that door go to? I says to the barkeep. "'It's nothin' but an exit, he says. "'That's right in my line, I says. 'I'll take a chance at it. "When I opens the door I hears a telegraph machine goin'.
Wot's worse, this 'ere cat looks per-cisely like your uncle, green eyes, white shirt front, black tie and all. It's enough to give a body the shivers to see 'im a-settin' on the kitchen floor lappin' up 'is mush and milk, the which your uncle was so powerful fond of. "Wot's more," continued Mrs.
"'Tis like a taste of the good old days, the days well nigh gone for ever; the smell of the bark fire; an' th' tang of the kinnikinick; an' the cinnamon cedars; and the air like champagne; an' the stars prickin' the crown o' the hoary old peaks like diamonds; an' the little waves lappin' an' lavin' an' whisperin' an' tellin' of the woman y' luve. An' care? Care, man?
Not sad tears, not happy ones, but tears that come only to them that shet their eyes and behold the country, and love it. The waves softly lappin' the shore brought a message to me; my soul hearn it. Who sent it? And where, and when, and why? Not a trace of these emotions could be read on my countenance as I sot there calmly a eatin' fried potatoes.
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