The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1912-08-03


Mr.. Bowser got off the car.
who said L did?" was the reply.
| Nobody. 1 only judged so from
your looks. You'll be disappointed,
old man. Used to be millions of 'em
roosting in the trees, but an epidemic
| of whooping cough came along and
choked 'em to death. You might run
down a mud turtle, though, if your
wind is good
| Mr.. Bowser was hopping mad in a
+ minute, and he put down basket and
spade with the idea of punching the
mans head. Then he suddenly real
| lied that it was all Mrs. Bowser's fault
and that he'd make her pay for it
his utensils and journeyed on. He
saw robins fitting, and he found
mudholes twenty feet across. He saw
| lambs frisking, and he fell off
fence and split his coat up the back
J 1t was only after an hours walk
that Mr.. Bowser gained the primeval
forest 1t was primeval because there
was as much as three acres of it,
and the acres were under mortgage
altogether and under water to a large
extent. However, it was in the pri-
meva1 forest that he used to dig roots
when he was a bounding boy, and
| he looked around him with expect
ancy. The mud dried on his eye
brows and the water squashed out of
| his shoes as he searched around, but
| he didn't permit those trifling Incl
dents to interrupt the harmony OF the
occasion. 1t was only when he paused
before a milkweed plant that was get
| ting ready for boom that he began
to doubt his knowledge of rootology.
He was digging it up to see whether
| it was sarsaparilla or sweet flag when
the old farmer who owned the prime
val. subject to mortgage, came that
way looking for a stray hog.
What We 1ookin' for?" he queried,
with suspicion in his tones.
Roots" brusquely replied Mr..
Bowser-''roots to make beer for the
blood"
skunk's cabbage to make yer tonic?''
, Them's the only kind as grows around
here. Who be We anyhow"
MY name is Bowser.'
Il never heard of it before, but I
don't like the sound of it. Sounds
like the name of a man who'd steal
hogs. I'd much obleeged to We if ye'd
root yerseIf out of thisl"
.I want to find some roots,' protested
Mr.. Bowser as he choked his anger
back: 'sarsaparilla, spicebush, sassa-
heard of root beer. Our mothers used
to make US drink it for the blood, you
know.
Eyes. 1 may hev," replied the farmer,
but I've also heard Of hog-thieves, I've
missed a spotted hog, and if we've stole
him I'll foller we to state prisoni Git
outer my woods or it'll be the wuss fur
vel"
Il won't do it,"
Then I'll make ye!''
There was a mortal combat The
farmer was the oldest and had a bow
to his back, but Mr.. Bowser had less
wind and more fat to make it an even
thing. They struck and kicked and
pulled hair for 10 minutes, and then
hacked away to yell at each other:
srYou internal old hayseed!'
You blamed hog stealeri"
you ought to have your head knock
ed off"
And you OTTER be in iail!''
Then Mr.. Bowser leaned against d
tree to show that he couldn't be bluff
ed. and the farmer sat down on a log
TO show that he couldn't be scared off
his own farm. After glaring at eacn
other for 10 minutes Mr.. Bowser said:
I'm out here after roots, and I'm
going to git EN-"
stGit 'em and be hanged to yer! There
hain't any around here that hain't
pizen. Make beer of EN- and drink one
glass and you'll bust up like a biler,"
Mr. Bowser considered the matter and
then decided to abandon his quest
you'd better go home and soak your
head!'' said the farmer as the root
digger moved off.
Don't sass me. or I'll lick We
again.
Our hero had been rolled in the muck,
and he had fallen into ponds of water
and he was an object of ridicule and