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Will you therefore kindly confide in the bearer of this letter, giving him by word of mouth such facts as will enable John Sprague's relatives to work intelligently in the search for him, living or dead? "Very truly yours, It was hardly written when Elkins himself appeared, radiant with satisfaction and blushing like a peony under lamplight. "Yeour note came just in th' nick o' time.
The words seemed to choke her as she began. "Young man," she said, "I donno much abaout yeour raisin'. I've heered yeour folks wuz great on religion.
The arrangement we are about to enter into is a very important one, and, as you are not postmaster, your husband will have to be present to witness and ratify the bargain." "Bless yeour soul," replied she, "it's all right. I 'tend to all the biznis. My husband doesn't bother hissef abeout it in the least." "Madam," answered the officer, "pardon me.
The ticket-agent stared stubbornly into the infinite, making no sign till a coin rang on the window-ledge; when he started, eyed the offering with fugitive mistrust, and gloomily possessed himself of it. "I'll look after them," he said. "Be ye thinkin' of walkin'?" "Yes," said Amber over his shoulder. He was already moving toward the door. "Knaow yeour wa-ay?" "I've been here before, thank you."
I see yeour man 'n' the marshal here arrestin' 'em pooty lively last month; they sed 'twas yeour doin'; yeow was a gwine ter prossacute every livin' son o' hell them wuz thar words thet sold whiskey ter Injuns." "That's so!" said the Agent. "So I am; I am determined to break up this vile business of selling whiskey to Indians.
"Thet's the Quain place, daown by th' ba-ay," interpolated the youth from unplumbed depths of mournful abstraction. "It is. I wired yesterday " "Yeour name's Amber, aint it?" "Yes, I " "Well, Quain didn't get yeour message till this mornin'. I sent a kid daown with it 'baout ten o'clock." "But why the but I wired yesterday afternoon!" "I knaow ye did," assented the youth wearily.
"That is just the trouble in my position here, Aunt Ri," he said. "I have no real power over my Indians, as I ought to have." "What makes yer call 'em yeour Injuns?" broke in Aunt Ri. The Agent colored. Aunt Ri was a privileged character, but her logical method of questioning was inconvenient. "I only mean that they are under my charge," he said. "I don't mean that they belong to me in any way."
Naow, we ain't, Jeff 'n' me; we warn't raised thet way; but I allow ef I wuz ter hear my boy, Jos, he's jest abaout yeour age, 'n' make tew, though he's narrerer chested, ef I should hear him say what yeou've jest said, I allow I sh'd expect to see him struck by lightnin'; 'n' I sh'dn't think he hed got more 'n his deserts, I allow I sh'dn't!"
"To attend to the Indians of this Agency when they are sick," replied the Agent, promptly. "Wall, thet's what I heern; thet's what yeow sed afore, 'n' thet's why Alessandro, the Injun thet wuz murdered, thet's why he put his name down 'n yeour books, though 't went agin him orful ter do it.
He is executing my orders." "Who'm yeou to give arders here, gingy whiskers? Yeou come up to the master. They've tu long ears an' vuzzy bellies, an' you nippies they in yeour pockets when they'm dead. Come on up to master! He'll boy yeou all you're a mind to. Yeou other folk bide your side fence." "Explain to the proprietor. You can explain, Sergeant," shouted King.
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