The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1908-11-18

ing against tree In Hhadeful woods.
One of them was reading a newspaper
and the other was thoughtfully Duiing
on a short clay pipe. The bandanna
handkerchief that contained their
wardrobe was hanging on bush. and
close by we're the rations that had
been accumulated along the back-door
route.
Percy. old fellow, remarkeA the
smokeful tramp Iazily pushing a 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 It 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 Il 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 chaUpie," yawn.
fully aasented 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 doingg
The last time was at the club Fred
die"
They are camping, too, old fellow"
interjected Percy. "Freddie's party
is in the Adirondacks, and the Billy
Swintons are ia the Catskins. This
paper gives quite an account OF their
camp, as well as a picture Of dear
Mrs. Freddie IN the act Of landing a
FISH from the lake. She is"
Every time ! see Mrs. Freddie"
smilingIy broke in Harold. = think Of
a bale OF hay. If she wasn't pressed
in and tied up she would occupy n.S-s
space than a circus tent"
This camp life is making you shock
ingly rude. my dear Harold" said
Percy. why can't 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 hin
yonder has a beautiful patch of the
tubers, and he insisted that ] should
/ troo of d. l.
starting just as soon as l 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.
I'll the woods grew dark, and then the
hoboes rambled doWn the road and
stealthily climbed over the fence into
the sweet potato patch OF Percy'g dear
friend.
Two minutes later they we're indus
triously digging, and Percy. had mined
five potatoes and Harold SIX. when
farmer with a wicl1ed-looting gun and
dog to match bulged from behind
the bushes.
I've got you gosh-dasted tramps at
last, said the farmer, raising the ham.
mers of his gun and walking up to
the surprised hoboes, an If ther ccN-
sarned coroner O. this county was a
Republican. instead Of a Dimmycrat,
! would give him job here right now.
l."
aoa.so., -, ., ,,,t - no -.
quickly recovered his compoaure, but
/ would thank you to be more choice
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 this
locality with a view Of discovering a
valuable clay deposit and"
rs that so?" sarcastically interjects
ed the farmer We'll, If yer so gosh
darned fond O clay. s'pose ye jes' pick
few Jumps O dirt an drop them
sweet pertaters l don't mind ye takin
all tber gravel ye want, but at ther
present price sweet pertaters is too
darned good for hobo grub Now, then,
march straight fer ther house, an
since yer scientists an like ter dig ia.
ther earth, III let We play around afF
day termorrer."
Il regret, my dear man. protested
Percy. that we VIII be unable to ac-
cept your kind invitation. We have .
previous invitation which we"
Hike straight fer that bousei" per
emptorily commanded the farmer. IF
yer don't ] splash ye full o. shot, even
If the coroner is Dimmycrat!"
There was no help for It. so the
hoboes marched for the farmhouse
where they were locked in a corn crib
for the night with half dozen growly
dogs placed at the door to prevent
their escape.
On the following morning they were
taken back to the sweet potato patch,
and all day long they were compelled
to dig while the grinful farmer sat on
the fence with his gun in hand and
scrappy dog lowering near At sunset
they we're given six potatoes apiece
and told to sneak
=