Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1893-12-29

8
ton night gown
"'Walk right in, stranger Ofco's
we'll sleep n eat yer. Filurv'
h'iStin' the boys Outen the truu'le bed
I'll low yer'll bout lit that trun'l,
bed. said my host, Hospitality.
1.-The trundle bed was short, and
was tall, out 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 shake down
upon the floor. A cat and a 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
wheeAy fashion.
'Just as had fallen asleep Mrs.
Dancy cried shrilly, Daddy, daddy,
thar's skunks r hawks after the
chickens They'll git the doninicker
hen. Quick, daddy
1.-The fowls in the poultry-house
| squawked, the children cried,
Daddy, is hit bar, coon, DOS
SN'Ast W 80 AAV 6AU lOu ltVSUCTs
''Mr Dancy leared from his bed,
seized pine torch, lighted it and ran
to the poultry house He speedily
returned. carrying under one arm u
monster-sized live, struggling chick
en.hawk. He waved the torch
triumphantly,
"Tve ketched the mister, Filury.
The purtiest kind of a hawk, a game
Teller He battled me. I've brung
him inter the house ter show yer a
reel game hawk. I ketched i'm Jest
as he wuz aidgin' off'n the perchin'
pole the old dominicker Whoopee.
Filury. the creeter's loose. Children.
lookout, don't let i'm poster the
stranger. The mister's on ram
page. Whoope-e, hain't tibet hawk
natch'lly game un?'
"'Job, thar's three gallon o. E.are
cream in the churn. Don't let vhe
creeter upset hit N Spite the cream
quavered Mrs. Dancy, nimbly rising
from her bed, frantically tapping a
cotton night-cap and shrilly 'shoo-
shooinR' the flying hawk.
zip dip, zip, dip, the lively
creature vigorously paid its respects
to every unfortunate who impeded its
flight 1t flew high and it flew low.
frequently compelling me to draw the
'kiver" over my face.
~ Daddy, hits a-t'arin my ha'r.
hits clawin' me- walled the little
ones, skurrying from corner to CO, aer.
Mrs Dancy's yellow nightgrwn
Haunted and fluttered as she whirled
and gvrated about the room. Mr..
Dancy retained the lighted torch.
which he repeatedly thrust 1t his
hoping to blind the Great.
urc.
"'rhe churn's topplin', hits a
Zoin'. Thar-hit's gone. Three gal.
Ions of cream plum spilled screamed
Mrs. Dancy
''Ihe churn had fallen. Its con-
tents, thick, sour cream. deluged the
nnplaned pine floor The hawks
plumage became drenched with
cream 1t flew lower and repeatedly
my face. 1t flew so low that
Mr.. Dancy succeeded in twice fling
ing upon it quantity of sour cream.
Hits natch'lly game to the last
shouted my host, scooping up with
bhe hre shovel another charge of
;ream.
Look out, stranger, draw the
iiver over yer face er Job II dab YER
,alled Mrs Dancy.
II clutched at the 'kivers.' Alas
or me. The battle-worn, cream
irenched game hawk clawed my face
'lcl0usly. A splash of cream closed
my eyes.
"' Stranger, didn't mean ter hit
'er. I'll low yer'll lie compelled ter
inc us in this ere melee. This mister
lain't givin' in a mite
'Shet up, job Dancy. You've
'aused this melee by yer plum C. azy
1roiick, snapped Mrs. Dancy.
'My spunk' was aroused. l .jined'
he band of lightly clad warriors.
With big spoons, small gourds, and
lie pan we utilized the spilled cream
" endeavoring to deluge the hawk.
t held out against this mode of war
are for few moments longer when
was overpowered and relentlessly
dispatched.
JOD JancV, yer'd Orter We known
fracas ID be the outcome of bringin'
inter- the house wild hawk said
hrs. Dancy reproachfully. THE
tranger's cloth suit is plum spilled
" cream spatters. The children N
he cat n old Bose air kivered with
rcam.'
How'd know, Filury tibet tibet
II hawk 'ud tar things plum crazy:
knowed twas a game un. I'm sorry
tranger, hits hapned. Yer shant
az red cent fer this entertainment.
I'll low hits an uncommon show.
We haint KEEP the cream fer our
Owes .
" 'Shet up, Job Dancy. Yer the e
ne thet's spilled the cream. Yer
losey ter the shed n bring IN fore i
lick, pack some water from thcr q
ranch and i'll up the kittle. pye
ot to git the scourin' things. Never Z
you try such fool projick ag'in so q
ing as yer name remains Job Dancy.' u
led Mrs. Dancy sharply.
''Mv host inspected my cream snat. 9