The Bossier banner., 1894-11-22


fin'ly died of that wound he got when
the factory blowed up, you know. M
amt ben fit for nothin' for d'know
how long. I've got ter give up ped
| dim on count of my back and legs
knew this was the poorhouse where l
| blonged. I'd come here fore only
KEEP thinkin' how 'twould er made my
wife feel if she'd known it. She was
real high strung, Abby was one of
them Kimberlys over to North Bixby,
you know"
AS he said this the old man drew
himself up on his crutches and flung
up his head. But he could not remain
in that attitude, so he Immediately
sagged again between the supports.
| But you come out n see MAZE"
cheerfully.
| Mrs. Darte reluctantly stepped down
from the door. She flung her apron
over her head. She glanced back into
the passage that led to the kitchen
She could now distinctly smell the
dried apple that was burning on the
stove, and this fact did not make her
any more amiable.
why don't you call him here?" she
asked.
'Cause when tell him to Sc down
n wait for me he expects me to come
I've brought him up that way. | aim t
goin' to begin confusin' of him with
new ways"
Mr.. Little swung forward on his
crutches, and Mrs. Darte followed
him. There was a proud and tremulous
! eagerness in his voice and manner as
he reached the corner of the house and
cried:
Here he is! Come, MAZE, m give
yer paw to a lady"
A large yellow, smooth dog with a
square, black muzzle and light hazel
| eyes rose from his launches and came
forward wagging his tail, not wagging
effusively. but with polite welcome
He held up his paw, but as Mrs. Darte
did not take it he put it down again.
He glanced at his master, advanced his
head, gave one lick of his tongue upon
his masters dingy hand, then stood
waiting, smiling little, soldering
somewhat, and having very pleasant
look in his eyes. Yet these eyes had
the appearance of possessing other
powers of expression.
| A half peck basket with a cover
which was tied down with a string,
stood on the ground near where the
| dog had been sitting. The wooden
handle of this basket showed unmis-
taxable evidence of having been much
! 4 4 j.
| whats in that?"
As Mrs. Darte made this inquiry she
pointed one finger at the basket.
Its my sweet fagroot, you know" ?"
was the answer. Its what i peddle
good deal this time er year. Folks
don't care much about it, though, but
| it don't cost me nothin' to git it if |
dig it myself. But it always did
most kill me to dig it, n my backs so
now l can't do it no more. l told
Maize couldn't when l dug that mess.
Sometimes l have pins N thread n
needles in there. Maize he carries the
barsl1it-I couldn't with my two
crutches, you see. But 'taint so much
cause he carries the barskit either, t
/ couldn't git long 'thout him. It's
| jest cause" ..e
The man paused. His poor face
worked. Its cause l love him. tell
You what tits, Mrs. Darte. / don't
want ter live 'thout Maize. l don't
want ter live much, anyway, but l do
hope l sh'll stan it's longs Maize
does" The high voice cracked on the
last few words. The dog moved closer
to his friend and looked up at him.
What is it?" his eyes asked.
Mrs. Darte did not speak. Her face
was not precisely as it was when she
opened the door to Lemmy Little.
And she had forgotten the burned
! apple on the cook stove.
II s'pose he eats as much as man.
| she finally remarked.
No, he don't, he DON'T eagerly;
''he's real small eater, he is, You're
/ a real small eater, amt you, Maje?"
The dog tapped his tail on the
ground, then he yawned. He might
have been intimating that there were
the best of reasons why he eats SO
little. He had ranged up by his mas
ter's side and sat down as if to indi-
cate that he and the man belonged to
one party and the woman to another.
I'm tell We what les do" said Mr..
Little, suddenly. "You let US in, Maize
n me. You jes' lemme have my share
of victuals. n I'll share with Maize.
You en- jes' measure my victuals if you
want to, n won't take nothin' more;
honest, / won't. M I'll feed MAZE
outer my share. He en- sleep long of
me. He always does You see, 'twon't
cost town er cent. Now, will We do it?
If you don't d know whatll become
of us. l b'long to this poorhouse, but
swow I won't stay where they won't
take my dorg. Ill jes' lay down n die,
N be glad to, if they won't take my
dorg."
AS the quivering voice ceased, the
owner of it leaned his crutches against
the house and sat down on the ground
beside Maje, who Immediately put his
head on the mans ragged knee.
These moves were not made dramat
ically, but as if this were the way the