CHAPTER IX
THE CLOUD OF WAR
“I KNOW the cause of Dawson’s trouble,” remarked Vose Adams, late one night at the Heavenly Bower.
“What is it?” asked Wade Ruggles, while the rest listened intently.
“On my last trip to Sacramento, two months ago, I brought him a thick letter: that’s what is raising the mischief with him.”
“But what was in the letter to make him act so queer?”
“How should I know? do you expect me to open and read all the letters I bring through the mountains?”
“Bein’ as you couldn’t read the big letters the parson has painted on the side of the rock a foot high,” said Al Bidwell sarcastically, “there ain’t much danger of your doin’ that, which the same is lucky for them as gits love letters like myself regular by each mail.”
“Which the same you won’t git any more onless you sling your remarks a little more keerful,” warned the mail carrier.
“And the same being that you can’t read the directions 93 writ onto them, I don’t see how you’re going to help yourself.”