Volume X Part 23 (1/2)

The man started to his feet.

”Do you see that?” he cried, holding his revolver under her nose. ”Look right into that gun! We'll have no more fooling. It'll be your last look if you don't tell me where that money is before I count three.”

She put out her hand and calmly moved it aside.

”I've looked into those things ever since I've lived on the prairie,”

said she. ”And I dare say it won't go off--mine won't. Besides, I know very well you wouldn't shoot a woman, and you can't make bricks without straw; and then I've told you I don't know anything about that money.”

”You are a game one,” said he.

”No, I'm not,” she replied. ”I'm the most tremendous coward. I've come out here in this wild country to live, and I'm alone a great deal, and I quake at every sound, every creak of a timber, every rustle of the gra.s.s. And you don't know anything about what it is to have your heart stand still with horror of a wild beast or a wild Indian or a deserter--a deserting soldier. There's a great Apache down there now, stretched out in his blanket on the floor, before the fire in the kitchen. And I came up here as quick as I could, to lock the door behind us and sit up till Tom came home, and I declare, I never was so thankful in all my life as I was just now to see a white face when I looked at you!”

”Well, I'll be--! Apache!” cried the visitor. ”See here, little one, you've saved your husband's money for him. You're a double-handful of pluck. I haven't any idea but you know where it's hid--but I've got to be making tracks. If it wasn't for waking that Apache I'd leave Red Dan's handwriting on the wall.”

And almost while he was speaking he had swung himself out of the window to the roof of the porch and had dropped to the ground and made off.

Mrs. Laughton waited till she thought he must be out of hearing, leaning out as if she were gazing at the moon. Then she softly shut and fastened the sash, and crept with shaking limbs to the door and unlocked it, and fell in a dead faint across the threshold. And there, when he returned some three-quarters of an hour later, Tom found her.

”Oh, Tom!” she sobbed, when she became conscious that she was lying in his arms, his heart beating like a trip-hammer, his voice hoa.r.s.e with fright as he implored her to open her eyes; ”_is_ there an Apache in the kitchen?”

RUBAIYAT OF MATHIEU LETTELLIER

BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY

Dere's six chil_dren_ in our fam'lee, Dey's mos'ly girls an' boys; 'Toinette an' me wos t'ankful sure For all de happy joys; Dere's Pierre, an' little Rosalie, Antoine, Marie an' Jeanne, An' Paul he's com' now soon twelf year, Mos' close to be a man.

I's lof' all of _la pet.i.te femme_, De garcon mak' me proud, I haf gr'ad aspiratione For all dat little crowd; My Pierre shall be wan doctor mans, Rosalie will teach school, Antoine an' Jeanne shall rone de farm, Marie som' man will rule.

An' Paul shall be a _cure_ sure, I'll haf heem educate', I work it all out on my head, Oh, I am moch elate; Dis all of course w'en dey grow op; But I t'ink 'bout it now; So w'en de tam' was com' for ac', I'll know de way an' how.

Long tam' ago, w'en Paul firs' com', He mak' a lot of noise; He's keep me trot, bot' day an' night, He was wan naughty boys; At wan o'clock, at two o'clock, Annee ol' tam' suit heem, He's mak' us geeve de gran' parade Jus' as he tak' de w'im.

Sooding mola.s.s' an' peragork, On heem ve pour it down, An' soon he let his music op, An' don' ac' more lak' clown, An' den _ma femme_ an' me lay down To get a little doze, For w'en you are wan fam'lee man You don' gat moch repose.

But w'at's de use to mak' de kick, Dees fellows boss de place; I'd radder hear de healt'y lung An' see de ruddy face Dan run a gr'ad big doctor's bill, An' geeve de ol' s.e.x_tone_ De job, for bury all my kids, An' leave me all alone.

An' so our hands is quite ver' full, Will be, for som' tam' long, But ven old age is dreeft our vay An' rest is our belong, It's den ve'll miss de gran' rac_quette_,-- May want again de noise Of six more little children An' mos'ly girls and boys.

BIGGS' BAR

BY HOWARD V. SUTHERLAND

'Twas a sultry afternoon, about the middle of July, And the men who loafed in Dawson were feeling very dry.

Of liquor there had long been none except a barrel or two, And that was kept by Major Walsh for himself and a lucky few.