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As he was at the turnpike he might as well go on: that was quite clear. So Pen rode to the George, and the hostler told him that Mr. Foker was there sure enough, and that "he'd been a makin a tremendous row the night afore, a drinkin and a singin, and wanting to fight Tom the postboy: which I'm thinking he'd have had the worst of it," the man added, with a grin.
He advanced onto the pen first and before I even glanced down into the deep where as I s'posed she set on a rock a combin' out her long golden hair, a singin' her lurin' and enchanted song, to distant mariners she had known, and to the one who wuz a showin' of her off, before I had time to even glance at her, the maid, I was dumbfounded and stood aghast, at the mighty change that came over my pardner's linement.
His head tilted back in the way she had come to know, and she waited for the soft dialect: "I'd be singin' songs av love an' war-r-r, an' braggin' me hear-rt out, an' talkin' av the sea-green av your eyes, colleen. Look at him now!" For the great form of McTee left the circle of the trees and approached them. "He's got his head down between his shoulders like a whipped cur.
"We are going to have some music at the house to-night, and Mr. Lenox has kindly promised to sing for us," she replied. "He has, has he?" said David, full of interest. "Wa'al, he's the feller c'n do it if anybody can. We have singin' an' music up t' the house ev'ry Sunday night me an' Polly an' him an' it's fine.
"I wouldn't a slept the fore part of last night anyhow," Bunch said pointedly. "I hope I didn't keep you awake with my singin'?" Bowers's voice expressed a world of solicitude. "Was that you makin' that comical noise?" Bunch elevated his brows in astonishment. "I thought one of the horses was down, and chokin'." Bowers slammed a pyramid of pancakes upon the table.
I'm sure I'd heaps rather listen to Julia Duffy singin' 'Father, dear father, come home with me now, an' you know what that's like." "But that ain't near the worst yet. After all them fellas got through some more scrabblin', out comes the tall chap again, I was tellin' you about. Maria said it was him, or I never would a guessed it, because, as sure as you're standin' there, Mrs.
"You ought to git Mr. Thomas to take you to the th'atre some night. He goes lots." "Why, yes, what 's the matter with to-morrer night? There 's a good coon show in town. Out o' sight. Let 's all go." "I ain't nevah been to nothin' lak dat, an' I don't know," said Mrs. Hamilton. "Aw, come, I 'll git the tickets an' we 'll all go. Great singin', you know. What d' you say?"
I was shy enough, I'll own; but I pulled aside the curtain of the tent to see again: and there was nothin' beyand for the eye. But the singin' was goin' past and recedin' as before, till it died away along the waves of prairie grass. I wint back and give Grey Nose, my Injin bed-fellow, a lift wid me fut.
'N' hot days, when th' hands was chaffin' 'n' singin', th' black wheels 'n' rollers was alive, starin' down at me, 'n' th' shadders o' th' looms was like snakes creepin', creepin' anear all th' time. They was very good to me, th' hands was, very good. Ther' 's lots o' th' Master's people down there, though they never heard His name: preachers don't go there. But He'll see to 't.
"That's funny," said Stover. "Music soothes me, no matter how bad it is. Last night when we come back from the Centipede Mr. Fresno was singin' Dearie, but I dozed right off in the middle of it. An' it's the same way with cattle. They like it. It's part of a man's duty when he's night-ridin' a herd to pizen the atmosphere with melody." "What I mean to say is this," Fresno hastened to explain.
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