Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1911-12-29

still lingering on the horizon. the little
party slowly wendell their way back.
down the steep trail into the one long
street of Sheridan.
At the hotel Neb was waiting, the
whites of his eyes shining with ex-
element, his patomime indicating I'M
portant news. AS soon as he could
leave Hope, Keith hurried down to
interview his dusky satellite. who ap-
peared about to burst with restrained
information AS soon as uncorked
that individual began to flow volubly:
II sho' done seed 'em. Massa Jack;
done seed 'em both"
Both? Both who?"
"Massa Waite. sab, an dat black
debble dat we was huntin' for 1t
was a mos surprisin circumstance.
saba mos surprisin' circumstance.
We'll. go on; where did you see
them? Do you mean they were to-
gether?"
The negro took long breath, evil
IDENTIFY overcome by the Importance OF
his message, and unable to conjure
up WOruS Wildly SdIASloS|oAJ ~
ideas.
1T sho' am de strangest ting,
Massa Jack, ebber prognosticated.
was Jest comm roun' de corner Oh
Sheeny Joes shebang. back dar by de
blacksmith shop, when-de Lava
save me!-yere come oil Massa Waite.
a ridin long on cream .colo'd pinto
oil No
Vas, sab; he's whiskers was BLOWN
round, an could eben yeah him
cussin' he boss, when he done shy at
a man what got up sudden like from
a cart wheel he was settln' on. zone
took one look at dat secon tellar, ana
seed it was dat black debble from
down Carson way Den ducked lnta
de blacksmith shop out 'er sight.
sho' didn't want Mister Hawley to git
no chance at dis niger sho' dldn I.
Did they speak to one another!
Keith asked, anxiously. did you hear
what was said?"
"Sho dey talked, Massa Jack. l
sorter reckon dey was dar for dat
special purpose. Sutt'nly, sab. dey
went right at talkin like dey had
somt'ing on dey minds. OF Massa
Waite was a sittin' straight up on de
boss, an dat black debble was
standin' dar in front OBJ him. vi
Massa Waite he was mad from de
first jump off, an could heah most
eberyt'ing he said, but Mr. HaWley
he grin de same way he do when he
deal faro. an speaks kinder low. De
OIL man he swear fine at him, he call
him eberyt'ing-a damn liar, a damn
scoundrel-but Mr. Hawley he jest
grin, and say ober de same ting,
Whit was that. Neb?"
"Som't'ing bout gal, Massa Jack
an law sultan how de oil man
better settle up widout no fightin'
| jest didn't git de whole oh it. he
talked so low like"
What did Waite say?"
We'll, mostly he jest cussed. He
sho' told dat black debble bout what
he thought Oh him. but he didn't neb-
Der call him Hawley-no. sab, not
once; he done call him Bartlett. or
something or odder like dat. But he
sutt'nly read dat mans pedigree from
way back to de time Of de flood.
reck'n. An he done swore he'd tight
for whatebber it was, papers or no pa
pers Den Hawley, he got plumb tired
OBJ de oil man swearin' at him. an tie
grabbed a picter out OBJ he's pocket.
an says. Damn you; look at dat!
What kind oh fight can yo make
against dat face? De OF man stared
at it a while, sorter chokin' up; den
he say softer like: It's Hope; where
did yo' ebber get dat?' and de black
debble he laughed, an showed de pic
ter back into he's pocket Hope, hell!'
he say. it's Phyllis. an I'll put her
before any jury yo're mind to get-oh.
I've got yo nailed. Waite. dis time
tTO BE CONTINUED3