“All you fellers has been just as easy marks fer Josh as them ten turkeys in them boxes was a year ago. Some day we may ketch the perfessor, but knowin’ ’im as I do, I don’t b’lieve we will. He bruised a lot o’ gold shekels out o’ this bunch with that pale fowl, an’ besides ’e made us feel bad.”
Mr. Rat Hyatt was now recognized by the chair.
“Fer years,” said Rat, “all of us has called Sophy Perkins ‘the stinger,’ an’ she was a stinger, but I now move you, Mr. Chairman, that that title be hereby shifted offen ’er an’ put on that pink eyed turkey man.”
The motion was unanimously carried and ordered spread upon the records that Sophy had left at the store.
The meeting then adjourned.
As we left I casually mentioned the fine weather we were having.
“Yes, it’s been a phenonomous year,” replied Bill, thoughtfully.
VIII
THE PREDICAMENTS OF COLONEL PEETS[[1]]
Near one of the picturesque bends of the river, about half a mile above the beginning of the Big Marsh, was the home of Col. Jasper M. Peets, a doughty warrior, who had fought valiantly for the Lost Cause, and was spending his declining years in a troubled twilight.
[1]. The author acknowledges his indebtedness to Mr. T. H. Ball, of Crown Point, Ind., for a portion of the material used in this story.