Part 14 (2/2)

Dannie laughed. ”Dinna say such things, Jimmy. I hate to hear ye. Of course, I know about the fifty c.o.o.ns of the Canoper, and things like that; honest, I dinna believe ye can help it. But na man need lie about a serious matter, and when he knows he is deceiving another who trusts him.” Jimmy became so white that he felt the color receding, and turned to hide his face. ”Of course, about those fifty c.o.o.ns noo, what was the harm in that? n.o.body believed it. That wasna deceiving any ane.”

”Yes, but it was,” answered Jimmy. ”The Boston man belaved it, and I guiss he hasn't forgiven me, if he did take my hand, and drink with me.

You know I haven't had a word from him about that c.o.o.n skin. I worked awful hard on that skin. Some way, I tried to make it say to him again that I was sorry for that night's work. Sometimes I am afraid I killed the fellow.”

”O-ho!” scoffed Dannie. ”Men ain't so easy killed. I been thinkin'

about it, too, and I'll tell ye what I think. I think he goes on long trips, and only gets home every four or five months. The package would have to wait. His folks wouldna try to send it after him. He was a monly fellow, all richt, and ye will hear fra him yet.”

”I'd like to,” said Jimmy, absently, beating across his palm a spray of goldenrod he had broken. ”Just a line to tell me that he don't bear malice.”

”Ye will get it,” said Dannie. ”Have a little patience. But that's your greatest fault, Jimmy. Ye never did have ony patience.”

”For G.o.d's sake, don't begin on me faults again,” snapped Jimmy. ”I reckon I know me faults about as well as the nixt fellow. I'm so domn full of faults that I've thought a lot lately about fillin' up, and takin' a sleep on the railroad.”

A new fear wrung Dannie's soul. ”Ye never would, Jimmy,” he implored.

”Sure not!” cried Jimmy. ”I'm no good Catholic livin', but if it come to dyin', bedad I niver could face it without first confissin' to the praste, and that would give the game away. Let's cut out dyin', and cut corn!”

”That's richt,” agreed Dannie. ”And let's work like men, and then fish fra a week or so, before ice and trapping time comes again. I'll wager I can beat ye the first row.”

”Bate!” scoffed Jimmy. ”Bate! With them club-footed fingers of yours?

You couldn't bate an egg. Just watch me! If you are enough of a watch to keep your hands runnin' at the same time.”

Jimmy worked feverishly for an hour, and then he straightened and looked about him. On the left lay the river, its sh.o.r.es bordered with trees and bushes. Behind them was deep wood. Before them lay their open fields, sloping down to the bottom, the cabins on one side, and the kingfisher embankment on the other. There was a smoky haze in the air.

As always the blackbirds clamored along the river. Some crows followed the workers at a distance, hunting for grains of corn, and over in the woods, a chewink scratched and rustled among the deep leaves as it searched for grubs. From time to time a flock of quail arose before them with a whirr and scattered down the fields, rea.s.sembling later at the call of their leader, from a rider of the snake fence, which inclosed the field.

”Bob, Bob White,” whistled Dannie.

”Bob, Bob White,” answered the quail.

”I got my eye on that fellow,” said Jimmy. ”When he gets a little larger, I'm going after him.”

”Seems an awful pity to kill him,” said Dannie. ”People rave over the lark, but I vow I'd miss the quail most if they were both gone. They are getting scarce.”

”Well, I didn't say I was going to kill the whole flock,” said Jimmy.

”I was just going to kill a few for Mary, and if I don't, somebody else will.”

”Mary dinna need onything better than ane of her own fried chickens,”

said Dannie. ”And its no true about hunters. We've the river on ane side, and the bluff on the other. If we keep up our fis.h.i.+ng signs, and add hunting to them, and juist shut the other fellows out, the birds will come here like everything wild gathers in National Park, out West.

Ye bet things know where they are taken care of, well enough.”

Jimmy snipped a spray of purple ironwort with his corn-cutter, and stuck it through his suspender buckle. ”I think that would be more fun than killin' them. If you're a dacint shot, and your gun is clane”

(Jimmy remembered the crow that had escaped with the eggs at soap-making), ”you pretty well know you're goin' to bring down anything you aim at. But it would be a dandy joke to sh.e.l.l a little corn as we husk it, and toll all the quail into Rainbow Bottom, and then kape the other fellows out. Bedad! Let's do it.”

Jimmy addressed the quail:

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