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Updated: May 10, 2025
His name was Diogenes Snow; but he was called Dio, or Di sometimes, for shortness. With his music, and under Jack Windy's instruction, Bill soon learned to dance a hornpipe, so that few could surpass him. "Dare, Bill; well done, Bill!" shouted Dio, as he scraped away with might and main. "Oh, golly! Iolly! Bill would beat Queen Charlotte, if she tried to do it, dat he would. Berry well, Bill.
Sunshine Bill was the only one who kept up his spirits. In a neighbouring cottage, to which the stable belonged, lived an old negress, the wife of the proprietor. More than once she had caught sight of Bill, who used to go outside their habitation in the evening, and amuse the rest of the party, by showing that he had not forgotten Jack Windy's instructions in dancing the hornpipe.
"Let the old flag wave," he shouted excitedly, "let the men of Caxton show the true blue and rally to the old standards." "That's right, Windy, expostulate with them," shouted a wit, and a roar of laughter drowned Windy's reply. Sam McPherson also went to the meeting in the hall.
Buck and the others in authority left me to inform her of what had taken place. I told you some time back that this is no love story; but I may as well let you in on the whole sequel to it, and get it off my chest. Windy's scheme brought immediate results. The partnership agreement was recorded, and after the usual legal red-tape Miss Emory came into the property.
Nat'ral history was always my hobby and sportin' events my special pleasure and this yarn of Windy's reminds me of the only chanst I ever had to ring in business and pleasure and hobby all in one grand merry-go-round of joy.
Looking at Windy's face, I knew these words for truth. "He's a bad hombre," resumed Windy Bill after a moment. This was going it pretty strong, and I grinned at Windy Bill. "All right," said Windy, "I'm just telling you." "Well, what's the matter with you fellows down here?" I challenged. "How is it he's lasted so long? Why hasn't someone shot him? Are you all afraid of him or his Mexicans?"
Sam had turned and walked out of the room. The emotions of the sister had seemed to him to have the flavour of one of Windy's outbreaks. "She likes it," he had thought, dismissing the incident. "She likes believing in lies. She is like Windy and would rather believe in them than not."
In spite of Windy's incompetence and her own growing ill health, she would not permit the family to go into debt, and although, in the long hard winters, Sam sometimes ate cornmeal mush until his mind revolted at the thought of a corn field, yet was the rent of the little house paid on the scratch, and her boy fairly driven to increase the totals in the yellow bankbook.
He's still over ther, nasty-drunk an' shootin' off what he's goin' t' do." He rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation, gloating deeply in his throat: "Stirrin' times! ar! stirrin' times! . . . Now 'bout that ther hobo, Sargint " "Aw! damn th' hobo!" exploded Slavin impatiently. "Here, Nick! show me Windy's harse. Fwhat? Niver yeh mind fwhat for . . . now! Yu'll know all 'bout that later."
"Say, that sure was a hell of a trick of his using Windy's horse while the two of them were scrapping trying to frame it up on him!" "Eyah," soliliquised the sergeant sagely. "'Twill all come out in th' wash. Whin cliver, edjucated knockabouts like Gully du go bad; begob, they make th' very wurrst kind av criminals.
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