Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-02-21
THE OLD SETTLERS YARN.

they may devoUr. VT % ye think bout
it 'Squire?"
81 haint thunk nothin' bout it," re-
piled the squire. can don't keer moth
in bout it. Did ye ever see a painter
Maori"
This unexpected query made the Old
Settler gasp. After the many exploits In
chasing and overcoming panthers that
he had in his time given the details of to
the squire, this query cor veyed to him
the idea that sll those tales had been re-
ceived by the squire with degree OF in
credulity that was not fatter1ng to the
relator. But the Old Settler replied TO it
more IN sorrow than in anger.
Squire" said he, "be l to 'spect th't
yer recomemb'r'nce is playin' ye tricks,
or be | to ketch it from yer remark that
yer faith in the his'try o. the Sugar
Swamp deestric' ez hev ben givin' ye
p'tic'ar p'ints on fer twenty year an
better, hain't no bigger'n mustard
seedf"
''Wull, Major" said the squire, "thst's
a leadin' question, an l 'biec5 to answer
in. 1 mout criminate myself, you know,
ez we say in tryin' cases. But I'll say
this much, Major, an hope it'll content
ys, an that is tint my recomemb'r'nce
hain't pIayik' me no tricks, not by two
gallon jug full"
eyer 'pology is all right, squire" said
the Old Settler, blandly. | only wanted
to know how ye stood, that's all. Now ez
[ know, I'll perceed an an'ser yer ques-
ton. Did L ever see a painterf Noun
tains an mountains of 'em, Squire! An
it'd ha' been rippin' good thing fer
them kin tell ye, if they hadn't never
see me, fer 1 plunked 'em an plunked
'em, an l rasseled 'em an [ hustled 'em,
till it got TO DO so th't it were techin'
sight ter see 'em tryin' ter get fer safter
past'uTs wen they heard o. me bein' in
the woods. But painter he'd to hev his
Harm clock sos SO he KID git up very 'arly
in the mornin' il he lost me wen 1 struck
his trail. Me an painters was OF 'quain-
fences in the good OF days o. Sugar
Swamp, squire an it was 'cause the
painters couldn't cut my 'quaintence th't
tn hain't no more on EN- left in this
bailiwick or any other bailiwick o. this
degin'rit country. Did We ever know
Goldy Hardpate, the queer chap th't were
allus shiverin' and the warmer it were
the harder he shiveredf"
Yes, / know'd him." replied the Squire
cor leastwse l knoWed of him, en- never
know'd or heerd any good of him, nuther.
His word want much better'n some
other folks / ulster know, an know yit.
He ware allus ketchin' painters toto
hear him tell it."
"WulI, | know of his ketchin' 'ieven
an all of 'em to wunst, too" said the Old
Settler. "W'at he mowt ha did 'cordin to
hisself | can't sw'ar to, but about them
twelve painters | know'd individually an
person'ly an wen | know thing indi
vid'ally and person'ly, b'gosh, 1 know it
tol'ably durn sure, an l hain't Altered
nor back ards in walkin' up to the dough
trough an affydavyin' to It'll"
81 heerd, wunst, sumpin' bout twelve
painters" said the Squire, an
I'VE never heerd it right, then b'gosh,"
exclaimed the Old Settler, "fer hain't
never even tol' Arriar bout il, an the
nat'ral hist'ry o. them painters hain't
krow'd by no one else but me. Colby
Hardpa took to shiverin' so arter he had
ketched an cooped them painters th't he
shook the life cuten hisself in less'n no
time, an didn't hev a chance to tell no
body bout il, an | were the unly one ez
had the secret locked in his chist. I've
KEEP it thar ever sence, bet now Pm
agointer let it out, cause Coldy's mem'ry's
kinder ben set on, an Pm agointer show,
b'gosh, th't it can't be sot on ez long ez 1
kin haul up hist'ry f'm Sugar Swamp
deestric'."
81 can't tell ye wat the natur' o. Coldy's
system we're tat made its predomineerin'
featar' sort o. perpetual ager, but he
had it, an it kim in good play, too, wen
he were rasselin' a bar or Il painter, fer
Colby were ez strong ez mulley OK, an
wen he olutohed his bar or his painter,
an that ager o. his got to workin', it jist
shook the everlestin' belix outen 'em so
quick th't they hadn't time TO wonder wat
were movin' of 'em. Then ag'in it were a
queer thing th't his shiver never bothered
Colby in DRAWN bead with his rifle, an
he KID PUNK the bulls eye, or the bars
eye, ev'ry time. An another queer thing
were th't water seemed to feet his shivsr,
fer whenever Coldy'd drink tuubler of
water his hand'd shake so th't durn nigh
all the water'd spill it out. But contrary
ways an queerest of all were th't Colby
KID fill tumbler with apple juice chuck
to the top sn' git it to his mouth without
never losin' drop"
9Th usety be curious patch o. vines
th't growed on one edge o. the swamp in
them days, but 1t didn't grow long arter
its uncommon pisen disposition were
foun' out. 1t seemed to binder of re
lation o. the cow eetch weed, and shed
dust often it th't usety look like fog wen
it took 70 flynn roun'. Every summer
some o. the residenters o. the Sugar
Swamp deestric' d find q hog or two o
theirs, or a cow, or mebbe q boss or a dog,
stragglin' roun' the kentry binder thin a
hull family o. bats rolled inter one. No
body could get it through 'em what sot
this blindness goip' till one day it
plunked inter my OF papa's NOODLE th't it
were the dust often that patch o. briers,
but even then nobody were sartin' an
nothin' were did. One Gay in July, 1888,
the oh day o July, SO l think were
edgin' roup' in the woods lookin' fer q
leetle shindig with a bar or sum pin"
g'ep heerd the oonssrndest catterwaulin,
an yellin' over lords the swsmy th't eve-
were heerd in them woods afore or since
/ sneaked over that way, an peekin'
through the bushes, see 3 sight ez made
me almost faint. Thar right amongst
them vines, was election o. painters o.
all sizes, wrigglin' aroun' an Tunnin'
sg'in one another, an actin z if they
didn't hev no idee o. nuthin' but to tumble
aroun' in thar an' yell. In minute OF
two the hull Cultivation were as plain to
me ez pine knot torch on a cloudy
night.
'Gosht'Imightyp I says to myself,
them painters has settled the hull bust
ness. They've got inter that patch in
travels, an that dust has blinded 'em,
sure 81 crickets1l squeak
'srm gummed, squire, if WANT so
sorry for them ieven painters-th' was
'leveu on 'tm-I were so sorry fer 'em,
Squire, th't act'ly had to blubber like q
calf an took to wonderin' wat KID do to