The Ketchum keystone. [volume] (Ketchum, Idaho) 1885-1899, 1886-10-02

well, / VIII. GO about TWO miles
down this road, then turn to the
left. The fust house you strike
will be old Sam Potter's. He'll
take you in
But will he charge anything?'
Not cent
Treat me well, of course?'
Like er jedge-give you the best
in the house.
'Will he feed my horse?'
He'll founder him if you say so.
Il am thousand times obliged
to you
Say, the man called, as the
preacher started off, hes a sorter
curis feller, an if you ask him how
much he charges he'll git mad.
Jest act like you was at home and
it will be all right with him.
Thank you; I'll do So
THE preacher found old Potter
to be tall, gaunt man, with n
harsh voice and grizzled beard.
Just before bed time the minister
asked Mr.. Potter if he would join
him in prayer.
Not jest yit,' Potter replied.
Jest git down and pray when yer
feel like it. Don't wait on me, fur
I've got to feed the hogs afore / 90
to bed
After breakfast the next morning,
when the preachers horse had been
saddled, the reverend gentleman
turned to Potter and said:
when | leave place | always
feel that | am forgetting something
Wall, amt yer?'
No, | think not the preacher
replied, as he began to tumble in
his saddle bags. No, l haven't
forgotten anything
I'm putty certain that you have.
You've forgotten to pay me-
What? / didn't think you
charged anything
Yer know it now
But, my dear sir, l am a poor
preacher
Never hearn you preach, but
jedgin' by the way you talk, !
reckon you air er poor preacher
| mean that | haven't any
money
Not my fault
That's all very well, but | can't
pay you
Then I'll have to take Il outen
your hide
Look here, my friend
'Oh, I'm lookin'. Going to keep
my eyes on you
/ say that man told me that !
could stay here without charge
Vas, but | wasn't the man.
i really can't pay you
What, after catin' as much as
much as you have? Why, parson,
you can make table look the del
icatest an punicst NV any man |
ever seen. The very first pass you
made the hind leg of a shoat dis
appeared, an then you made a mo-
ton at the last pound Nv butter we
had. an it wasn't no longer for
this here 'arth.
l admit was hungry, but
'Oh. you needn't admit it, fur | |
soon diskivered that fack.'
This is surely a very awkward |
position. | really do not know
what to do
Settle up is the only advice I've
got to offer
But / really cannot
Then some of your hide mus
come off,
Il wish you had more soul
'Yas, an | wish you had more
money
'You certainly would not COM
NIT an act of violence merely for a
few dimes?'
Vas, b'lieve l would
My friend, l am on my way to
feed my flock, and
reckon you thlnk mo erbOut
feedin' yourself. Wy, that dish NV
cabbage turned pale every time you
looked at it. l ken stand er good
deal, but when a vidults cyclone
comes along it breaks me up
Il am occupying terribly awk-
ward position
Better squat, then.
IF you'll let me off I'll send you
the money
NO, Pm erfeered that after you
begin to feed your flock you won't
think NV sinner like me-
Well, l declare, l am in an awk-
ward position
'Yas, so I've hearn.'
is there no way by which we
can settle this AFFAIR."
'Oh, yes; pay up !
But | tell you l have no money |
'Yes, so I've hearn.' ,
We'll, as you have driven me to ,,
The wall, suppose l must fight
you.'
'That's my ticket. Skin your '
SELF e