St. Landry clarion. (Opelousas, La.) 1890-1921, 1899-03-04

the forest, mingled Withsthe ftful blare
Of a stove-pipe funnel, which dis
coursed dismally from the roof. Long,
taut iron wires braced the kitchen
stove-pipe, and these also had a voice
the jar and tremor of rude harpstrings,
when the pent gusts smote them.
Darcie had sunk into dream SO
deep that he did not hear at first, and
| then started on hearing, the cautious
step of a heavy man endeavoring to
| tread lightly on the sounding platform
/ outside, and the touch Ola groping
hand on the door,
"Is this" he queried with himself,
sthe friend who is to show me to my
nights lodging? He does not come like
one who is sure of his welcome" Then
| his face broke into smile at the. sound
of Mikes well-known whistle, a trife
| more guarded than usual, with a rising
| note of inquiry, as if to ask: "Are you
there, Darcie dear?''
Mike detected no change in the man
ner of his partner, nor, at first, in his
countenance, more than his hurt and
subsequently confinement might have
accounted for, and they began to chaff
and berate each other in the language
in which men, surprised into strong
feeling, seek to conceal the. same. 2
WAS ye expectin' me?' asked Mike.
sinking his voice into the depths of his
richest brogue. "Did the docther tell
| ye where was hid? I'll be bound ye
niver axed him; for why wouldn't he,
tell ye, unless the little CURL was by? I
bet she was in it the heft o. the time,
and ye niver gev me thought. Butwe
betther be h'istin' out av this. Sure,
I'm liyin' like Robi'son Crusho in a cave
o. me own as handy as pocket in a
shirt. There's grub for two, an the
docther was tellin' me he'd sind me
boarder. He never mintioned your
name, but whistled on the chant The
docther is an honest man, entirely; he's
threated me white. He had me 1oife is
his hand the night I borrowed 1odgin'
unbeknownst to him, whin thin blag
yards was chasin' me trough the
woods: an he just chucked me the wink.
Lay low, Mike. says he; there's bet.
ther men. underground than some that's
on top
SAN now follow me into me diggin's;
it's pair O. gophers wen be- been
spreadin' me toes a bit underground,
feelin' for daylight by the back way
Up yon," he added, pointing generally
up the gulchside among the under
brush. SIS the back door av me gopher
hole. Hearts is thrumps, but spades is
our long shut, me lad. 7,
Without more elucidation OF the facts
conveyed in these mixed metaphors,
Mike undid the hasp of the cellar door,
and Darcie, STOPPING, followed him into.
a place where an odor Of pine kindling-
wood mingled with that of freshly dug
earth.
II put out me light beca'se I'm not
keepin' public" Mike explained.
STAN still in your thraclss till / fasten
the door, an thin we'll see the color o.
night underground.
This was the ouId mans wine
cellar" he babbled on. while making.
hospitab1e arrangements for his board
er's comfort; jabbing d miners prongetI
iron candlestick, in which he had placed
a lighted candle, into a beam of the
cellar tiInbering, and dragging forth
soap-box for a seat
IT is a pity he didn't miss two or
tree dozen ay beer whilst he was clean
in up. or a gallon nv good whisky. The
docther, honest man. he's good for free
lodgin's and grub and 'baccy. but he's i
nirer said beer TO me wance since. IN it /
I come. and don't tliink 4 i raaneness.
but astonch O. preeautioa, seefn' how
some folks exceed themselves that's
oslds1 nor vha + j am.
eEt's dhrg supper sye' have. for lis /
mostly canned stlsaf I'm liivin on, noti