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The truth was, you know, twenty-five cents is a kind of cup of cold water to Jimmy Wigley, and then there was the fun of bringing it in, and I didn't know anybody but you to offer it to; I'm so glad you like it; the girls thought you wouldn't. Perhaps I can get you another, or something else as curious, some day, a moose's horns, or a bear-skin; there's no knowing.
For this fact, soon after it was done, Wigley was apprehended, and convicted at the ensuing sessions. When all hopes of life were lost, he seemed disposed to suffer with cheerfulness and resignation that death to which the Law had doomed him.
There has been great suspicions that he murdered the old husband to this woman, who was found dead in a barn or outhouse not far from Hornsey; but Wigley, though he confessed an unlawful correspondence with the woman, yet constantly averred his innocency of that fact, and always asserted that though the old man's death was sudden, yet it was natural.
So I jumped right through the window and the smoke got into my eyes and made my ears ring, but I didn't care. I could taste it all thick, too, but I didn't care. That was the smoke that had to do what Wigley Weigand told it to, and he scribbled all over the sky with it, that's what he did, and now it had turned around and killed him.
Every one felt the news like a personal blow, and even the widow Wigley, who lives down in the valley, was full of sympathy. She had never quite got over her resentment at the funeral of David's father. Her own husband had been carried to his grave on a hand-bier, but at the funeral of David's father there was a horse-drawn hearse and a carriage for the mourners.
I didn't seem to see any of the troop, I only just saw my mother standing, maybe kind of unsteady like, and listening to Jake Holden. Then all of a sudden I walked straight over to where the Ravens were all sitting on the cabin roof. And I spoke to Wigley Wig-wag Weigand.
"I am Weetonka, the famous Indian chief!", I shouted, "and I haven't had anything to eat since eight o'clock. Give me that sandwich or I'll scalp you!" This chapter and the next one are mostly about Wigley Weigand, but we usually call him Wig-Wag Weigand, because he's a cracker-jack on wig-wag signalling. He's good on all the different kinds of signalling.
I have just given Jimmy Wigley a quarter for it, and he'd just all but broken his neck to get it. It's a real crow's nest. Corvinus something-else-us, I suppose. Where will you have it? I'm going to nail it up for you myself. Won't it make a nice contrast to the humming-bird's? Over the bed, shall I? But then, if it should drop down on your nose, you know!
You will have the satisfaction of knowing that you will occupy a bunk which your companions have made ready for you, and that you did not yourself hammer so much as a single nail. Arthur Ivan Arlen and Wigley Weigand, both weary and one lame, after a frightful experience, were here and helped to make the boat safe and comfortable for you. They were loyal to the Raven Patrol.
"They were always such people for show," said Mrs. Wigley. And the memory had rankled. But now it was buried. Next day we saw the mother and the wife set out down the lane for the village post-office, and thereafter daily they went to await the arrival of letters, returning each day silent and hopeless.
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