Part 44 (1/2)

”Yes, an' it was all flowers an'--an' fruit,” she cried ecstatically.

Jamie's eyes were dancing with delight, too, but he remained silent, waiting for developments.

The members of the Trust looked on with the deepest interest. Each man's face wore a half-smile--that is, all except the gambler's, who still appeared to be absorbed in his own thought--and the bush opposite. But the interest of these men was less in the little man's story than in a speculation as to when he was going to break down, and yield his tutelary att.i.tude before a battery of infantile questions.

However, Scipio was still in a fairly strong position.

”Well,” he agreed, ”I do guess ther' was fruit ther', but I don't guess it was a fruit ranch exactly. Maybe it was sort of mixed farmin'. Howsum, that don't matter a heap. Y'see, ther' was heaps an'

heaps of animals, an' bugs, an' spiders, an' things--an' jest one man.”

”Ther' was a woman,” corrected the irrepressible Sandy. ”That's dead sure. They got busy on one of the man's ribs an' made her. Ain't that so, Toby?”

He turned to the squat figure beside him for corroboration, but Sunny took up the matter from across the semicircle.

”You're a wise guy,” he exclaimed scornfully. ”Can't you kep from b.u.t.tin' in? Say, I'd hate to know sech a heap as you.”

Just for an instant Wild Bill turned his sharp eyes on his companions.

”Shut up you'se all,” he cried. And promptly Scipio was allowed to continue his story.

”Now, 'bout that garden,” he said thoughtfully. ”Y'see, G.o.d told that feller he wasn't to pick no fruit. Y'see, I guess it was needed fer cannin' or preservin'. Maybe it was needed for makin' elegant candy. I don't know rightly--”

”You're talkin' foolish,” exclaimed Sandy, jumping up excitedly.

”Cannin'?” he cried scornfully. ”They didn't can fruit them days.”

”Maybe you're right,” said Scipio apologetically.

”I know I am,” snorted Sandy.

”Then shut up,” cried Bill, without turning his head.

”Anyhow,” went on Scipio, when all argument had ceased, ”it was jest up to that feller not to pick that fruit. An' he didn't mean to neither, only he got kind o' friendly with that snake--”

Little Vada jumped up.

”I know--I know,” she cried, in the wildest excitement. ”The snake made him eat an apple, an' then the rain came down, an' poured an'

poured--”

”Poured an' poured,” echoed Jamie, jumping to his feet and dancing around his sister.

”That's so,” admitted Scipio, in relief.

”Poured nothin',” murmured Sandy under his breath. ”He's messin' up the whole yarn.”

But as his comment didn't reach the father's ears he went on placidly.

”Wal, the rain poured down,” he said, ”so they was nigh drownded--”

”Why'd the rain tum?” suddenly inquired Jamie with interest.

”Ah!” murmured Scipio. Then he added brightly, ”Because he picked the fruit.”