Hot Springs weekly star. (Hot Springs, S.D.) 1892-1917, 1893-11-24

from n DOORWAY the white, yellow,
brown, black, spotted, large and
small dogs that crowded about Mr..
Dancy's hair matched in hue the cot
ton night gown.
".Walk right in, stranger Ofco'se
we'll sleep N. eat yer. Filurv's
h'istin' the boys outen the trun'lc bed.
I'll low ycr'll bout lit that trun'le
bed,' said my host, Hospitality.
1.-The trundle bed was short, and I
was tall, put I was worn and tired.
The homespun quilts were soft and
comfortable. Two large beds in the
room were occupied. Three Yellow
haired children lay in q shake down
upon the floor. A cat and q yellow
dog lay sleeping upon the stone
hearth before the Goals in the fire.
place. A tall, wooden churn stood
upon the hearth, and the big wooden
clock upon the mantel licked in a
wheezy fashion.
"Just as 1 had fallen asleep Mrs.
Dancy cried shrilly, "Daddy, daddy,
thar's skunks r hawks after the
chickens They'll git the dominickcr
hen. Quick, daddy
. ''Thc fowls in the poultry-house
squawked, the children cried,
Daddy. is hit a bar, a coon, a pos
sum,-will hit git the rcd rooster?:
"Mr. Dancy leaEed from his bed.
seized a pine torch, lighted it and ran
to the poultry house. He speedily
returned. carrying under n arm a
monster-sized live, struggling chick
en-hawk. He waved the torch
triumphantly,
"'I've ketchcd the mister, Filury.
The purtiest kind of a hawk, a game
filler He battled me. I'ye brunr
him inter the house ter show yer a
reel game hawk. 1 ketched i'm lest
as he wuz aidgin' off'n the perchln'
pole the old dominicker. Whoopee,
Filury. the creeter's loose. Children,
lookout, don't let i'm poster the
stranger. The mister's on a ram
page. Whoope-c, hain't tibet hawk
natch'lly a game imp
"'Job, thar's three gallon o. I:are
cream in the churn. Don't let yhe
crecter upset hit IN Spite the cream.
quavered Mrs. Dancy, nimbly rising
from her bed, frantically tapping q
cotton night-cap, and shrilly Shoe
shooing' the flying hawk.
'Zip, dip, zip, dip, the lively
creature vigorously paid its respects
to every unfortunate who impedei its
flight. 1t flew high and it flew low,
frequently compelling me to draw the
"kiver" I've my face.
"'Daddy. hits a-t'arin' my hair,
hits clawin' me- walled the little
ones. skurrying from corner to co. ner.
Mrs. Dancy's yellow nightgrwn
Haunted and fluttercd as she whirled
and gvrated about the room. Mr..
Dancy retained the lighted torch,
which he repeatedly thrust at his
hawkship, hoping to blind the Great
ure.
"sThc churn's a topplin', hits a
goin'. Thar-hit's gone. Three gal.
Ions OF cream plum Spilled screamed
Mrs. Dancy.
"The churn had fallen. Its con
tents, thick, sour cream. deluged the
unplaned pine floor. The hawks
plumage became drenched with
cream 1t flew lower and repeatedly
brushed my face. 1t flew so low that
MIR. Dancy succeeded in twice fling
ing upon it Il quantity of sour cream.
"'Hit's natch'lly game to the last,
shouted my host, scooping up with
the fire shovel another charge oil
cream.
"'Look out, stranger, draw tho
kiver over yer face er Job III dab yer,
called Mrs. Dancy.
II clutched at the 'kivcrs.' Alas
for me. The battlc-worn. cream.
drenched game hawk clawed my face
viciously. A splash of cream closed
my eyes.
Stranger, l didn't mean ter hit
yer. I'll low yer'll lie compelled tel
iinc us in this ere melee. This mister
hain't givin' in a mite!
"'Shct up, Job Dancy. You've
caused this melee by yer plum lay
projick,' snapped Mrs. Dancy.
"My 'spunk' was aroused. I lined
the band OF lightly clad warriors.
With big spoons, small gourds, and ;
pie pan we utilized the spilled cream
by endeavoring to deluge the hawk.
1t held out against this mode of war
fare for a few moments longer when
it was o%verpowered and relentlcssly
dispatched.
"Job Dancv, yer'd orter've known
a fracas ID be the outcome of bringin
inter the house a wild hawk SAID
Mrs. Dancy. reproachfully. THE
strangers cloth suit is plum spilled
by cream spatters. The children u
the cat n old Bose air kivered with
cream
'lIow'd l know. Filury tibet the
an hawk 'ud tar things plum crazy:
l knowcd twas a game un. Pm sorry
stranger, hits hap'ned. Yer shan1
pay a red cent fer this entertainment
N I'll low hits an uncommon show
We haint KEEP the cream fer our
solves.
"'shet up, Job Dancy. Yer tn.
one thet's spilled the cream. YeI
, moscy ter the shed N bring IN a for,
stick, pack some water from the,
branch and I'LL up the kittle. Nv,
got to git the scourin' things. Neve,
do ,,o,, tnx, c,,nk n Col -.-::.I. .-,.- -