Custer chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, Black Hills, D.T. [S.D.]) 1880-1890, 1888-05-19

tender cOrd-Stlcks.
That was a great mistake on Mr..
Mouser's part. He should have tackled
difficult ones first, on the simple but
fruitful theory that custom would have
| sweetened his toll with the balmr of
greater ease.
Ny! how the saw rented, and the alb
breviated sticks tumblcd To the ground.
Still, Lisbeth, who was pceping with
Notwithstanding eyes, noticed that
at the third cord-stick work seemed to
slacken just a little; but seven were
finished, and Mr.. Mouscr came in de-
claring he felt glorious.
The second day Mr.. Mouser remain
ed at table "A tritle longer. Four cord
sticks in broken lengths licked the
dust, however.
Third day-Mr. Mouscr took time to
glance over the daily news after din
ner. Record, three cord-sticks.
"Lisbeth," said he, II think I've been
cheated in that sawiack. It's not put
together on as practical a plan as | vas
led to believe. 1t wiggles."
Fourth day-Mr. Mouser toyed over
his dinner extensively. He smoked h,
pipe and read the paper. He glanced
over his monthly magazine until dark,
and then started up, eXclaiming:
Mercy, how short the days are
Mrs. Mouser enjoyed the situation in
tcnsely, but never said n word.
Fifth day Mr.. Mouser rose with .
sense Of injustice resting upon him.
All day h. was haunted by the ont
| rageous fate that made him the owner
OF . sawingjac&.
''Nly dear, we require more wood
than usual to-day and tomorrow. wash.
ing and ironing days, you know, said
hlrs. Mouscr, rs soon rs he got nome.
~ never saw anything like the way
You women manage To consume fuel.
and Mr.. MOuscr grabbed his hat and
strobe an%rily toward the wood-pile.
A few sticks fell before the savage
manipulation Of the saw, while Mr..
MOuscr's snarling kept excellent time
TO the wild motions ii the sawyer.
''Coufouud this business he NUT
tered, kicking at the harmless jack
not as hard as he wanted to kick. for
fear his wife should see him, and, WOO
manlike, cry, II told yoU So" and add
insult to injury by blabbing to those
busybodics, his friends, who kept ask
ing him how he was gcttingalong saw
ing wood. lie did wish folks would
mind their own business.
With Il crash he sent the saw fving
| over the woodpilc. This was too much.
His wife was a brute to expect him to
work like a slave during the few mo-
mcnts he could call his own free from
business drudgcry. But if he gave up
he would never hear the last of it. Oh,
if he could only get rid of that saw
jack.
A long time he pondercd; ut last u
smile of JOY illuminated his face. That
night, after his wife had retired, Mr..
Mouser slipped out and carried that
hated green object TO the front gate.
Presto. in the morning the corpus de-
licti would be gone. The highway was
full Of robbers, who would steal any
thing and everything.
He would make a big fuss about the
loss, but take good care not to buy a
second sawjack. And without IL how
could he saw the family fuel? His
wife shouldn't get the laugh on him.
He slept the sleep of the just until
about 4 o'clock in the morning. 1t
was still dark, but the anxiety to as
sure himself of the loss of his trouble
caused him To sneak out and reconnoi-
ire. The sawjack was still there. Mr..
Mouser whispered-not a prayer, "Oh,
well, there is time enough still between
this hour and daylight for a theft to be
committed" he muttered. 1t was the
voice of Mrs. Mouser hat awakened
him in time for breakfast. He glanced
out of the window the first thing. Oh,
how brightly the sun shone, and that
sawjack CLEANED up at him in all its
verdant beauty. No robber hand had
carried it away. A fearful sigh escap-
ell the Mouser bosom.
You must saw some wood for me
before YOU go, dear said his wife.
"What, more wood"
Yes, dear; recollect You only sawed
one stick last evening"" rejoined Mrs,
Mouser, mcekly, but a wicked CLEAN
of mischief played about her eyes and
mouth.
Mr.. Mouscr ignored her reply, and
FASTENED 10 toy with his pretty tool,
with a vigor born of awful fury. A
great swear word desired To he born
but his lips were compressed, while
way down in his soul a voice groaned
THAT sawingjack must 90!
Where whencco how?
Mr.. MouSer was n man of resources.
Twelve o'clock, midnight. A burglar
ish darkness and silence brooded
around as a man stole hence from his
couch, and. grabbing his trousers, lief;
a coy bedroom. A little later the only
other active creature about-a feline
prima donna-might have witnessed a
sorry sight; a solitary man, marching
downward, clutching in his strong right
hand Il bcautifully-painted green saw
ingjack.
Soon he returned. The sawingiack
where was it?
Mr.. Mouser rose that morning in a
most delightful frame of mind.
''Lisbcth-my dear little Lisbeth,"
he exclaimed friskilv. I'm going to
work IN earnest, to-day. | ann feeling
iine-much better than | have for some
time. Here, feel this arm. How's that
for muscle, eh? That's what saving
wood has done,'
Lisbcth blinkcd oddly, but looked
contcntcd. Mr. Mouscr fastened out
to Flip of a stick or two before break
fast" but soon came in looking quite