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Updated: August 2, 2024
"If Billy Holcomb had only give us a leetle more time, Hite," came a voice, "we'd had things fixed up slicker'n they be; but she won't leak a drop, that's sartain, and if this here Mr. Thayor hain't too pertickler " "Billy allus spoke 'bout him as bein' humin, Freme," returned his companion, "and seein' he's humin I presume likely he'll understand we done our best.
"Oh, we got it," answered the trapper. "Joe Dubois's boy come in with your telegram to the valley, and as soon as I got it I dug out for Freme, and we come in here day 'fore yesterday to git things comfortable." "Breakfus, gentlemen!" announced the Clown, for the bacon was done to a turn. "How do you like yourn, Mr. Thayor leetle mite o' fat and lean?"
And Thayor laughed heartily. He was very happy to-day. The trapper looked at him in wonder. "Freme warn't down this way was he, Billy?" Holcomb shook his head a curious expression on his face. "Oh, it wasn't Freme," retorted Thayor. "This man was half the size of Skinner, and a regular scarecrow. Looked as if he hadn't had anything to eat for weeks but he could handle a gun all right.
"Any way it happens to be," replied the millionaire, as he squeezed into his place at the rough board table next the trapper. "But before I touch a mouthful I want you all to understand that I don't wish to be considered as a guest. I'm on a holiday and I'm going to take my share of whatever comes." "Thar, Freme!" exclaimed the trapper, "I told ye Mr. Thayor warn't perticler."
The only thing that caused the young superintendent any real anxiety, and one he had tried in vain to stop was the sale of liquor to his men at Morrison's. When pay-day came half of his gang were invariably absent for several days, including even his trustworthy and ever-to-be-relied-upon Freme Skinner, the Clown.
"And we'll get him some day," exclaimed Thayor, the fever of fishing tingling within him. "There are some big trout in here, Mr. Thayor," continued Holcomb. "I've known this pond for several years and it has been rarely, if ever, fished." "Then, Billy, we'll have to go at them at twilight," declared Thayor. "You had better tell Freme to bring in one of the canvas canoes."
By this time the little Frenchman's eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily he was dead drunk. "Goll! warn't that an awful hooker ye give him, Freme?" asked the trapper. He turned to the sufferer, now that the doctor had disappeared, and drew an extra blanket tenderly over him.
If Belle could keep Freme sober over Sunday it was impossible to keep him away from her Holcomb would speak a good word to Thayor for Freme and Belle and then they could both get a place as caretakers of the house during the coming winter, be married in the fall and so live happy ever after. The girl promised, and the next Saturday the test came.
Thayor, and you look hearty that's best of all." "I am, Billy who wouldn't be well and happy a morning like this? And I've got a piece of news for you, too good news; Mrs. Thayor is coming along with us. How will the new trail be a little rough for her, do you think?" "Not a bit of it! Clear going all the way besides it isn't more than two miles there and back. Freme has made a clean job of it.
Why, I've seen Freme when he's been broke so he didn't have the price of a glass of beer at Pat's, build a dog house for some of the children, or help the hired girl by stacking a pile of wood handy for her."
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