Mountain Home maverick. [volume] (Mountain Home, Idaho) 1906-1911, 1908-11-19
Percy and Harold
Their Adventure In
Sweet Potato Patch

The hoboes We're comfortably reclin-
ing against tree in a shadeful woods
One of them was reading newspaper
and the other was thoughtfully putting
on short clay pipe. The bandanna
handkerchief that contained their
wardrobe was hanging on a bush, and
close by were the rations that had
been accumulated along the back-door
route
Percy, old fellow" remarked the
smokeful tramp, lazily pushing piece
of wood on the fire with his foot, so
that he wouldn't have to get up, Il
have just been thinking of the poor
Did it ever occur to you how greatly
they must envy us? Did 1t ever occur
| to you"
1T has. indeed, Harold" interrupted
Percy, glancing up from his newspa-
per, "and while | deplore their condi
ton, can see no way in which II can
be helped AS long as the world en-
dures there must necessarily be differ
ent classes of society There must be
the rich and the poor, and sometimes
1t grIeves me that the less fortunate
cannot camp In the woods as we are
camping and enjoy life that brings
one so close to the glory of nature"
That's right, dear chappie," yawn-
fully assented Harold. There is moth
ing like camp life. would rather lis
ten to the song of the birds than the
seven o'clock whistle any day in the
week. BY the way, what are the Fred
die Smiths and Billy Swintons doing?
The last time I was at the club Fred
die"
They are camping. too old fellow, .
interjected Percy "Freddies party
Is In the Adirondacks, and the Billy
Swintons are in the Catskills This
paper gives quite an account of their
camp, as well as picture of dear
Mrs. Freddie in the act of landing a
fish from the lake. She is"
Every time I see Mrs. Freddie, .
smilingly broke in Harold, II think of
a bale of hay If she wasn't pressed
in and tied up she would occupy more
space than circus tent"
This camp life is making you shock
ingly rude. my dear Harold" said
Percy. why cant you act just as II
you were at the club or in your apart
ments? AS for dinner, we are having
roasted sweet potatoes tonight. A good
friend OF mine who lives over the hill
yonder has beautiful patch OF the
tubers, and he insisted that | should
call on him and get some. We will be
starting just as soon as | have read
this delightful story about Mrs Porter
Griggy, who takes her sweet little dog
Fido out In a go-cart for an airing
every day at Newport"
Thus the conversation continued un
til the woods grew dark, and then the
hoboes rambled down the road anc
stealthily climbed over the fence into
the sweet potato patch of Percy's dear
friend.
Two minutes later they were indus
triously digging, and Percy had mined
FIVE potatoes and Harold six, when {
farmer with wiclSed-looking gun anC
a dog to match bulged from behinC
the bushes.
I've got you gosh -dasted tramps a
last" said the farmer, raising he ham
mers of his gun and walkine up tS
the surprised hoboes, IAN If Their con
sarned coroner o. this county was
Republican, instead of a Dimmycrat
| would give him job here right now
| T."
Pardon me-" put in Percy. VIII,
quickly recovered his composure, 'bu
| would thank you to be more choic,
of your epithets. ! will have you know
sir, that we are not tramps, but sci
entists. and that we are investigating
the different stratas of earth in thii
locality with a view of discovering
valuable clay deposit and
rs that so?" sarcastically interject
ed the farmer. We'll. If yer so gosh
darned fond O. clay, s'pose We jes' picl
few Jumps O. dirt an drop then
sweet pertaters. | don't mind We takin
all ther gravel we want, but at the
present price sweet pertaters is to,
darned good for hobo grub Now, then
march straight fer Their house, an
since yer scientists an like ter dig II
Their earth, I'll let ye play around al
day termorrer."
u regret, my dear man, proteste'
Percy, that we will be unable to &C
cept your kind invitation. We have
} previous invitation which We
Hike straight fer that housed" per
T emptorily commanded the farmer Il
J yer don't | splash we full O shot, evel
If the coroner is a Dimmycrat!"
There was no help for It, so tn
hoboes marched for the farmhouse
where they were locked in a corn cri
, for the night with half dozen growl
dogs placed al the door to proven
their escape.
On the following morning they wer
taken back to the sweet potato patch
and all day long they were compelle
to dig while the grinful farmer sat o.
tho fancp with his gun in hand and