“Say, what you haulin' that carcass out this way for?” Harvey demanded. “Whyn't you take it out the back way?”
“'Cause, boss, de gate ain't wide 'nuff. Got to go out dis yere way.”
“Well, dod-baste it! I guess I got to move,” said Harvey, and he got out of his rocker, groaned and moved it three feet to the left, and lost himself in the “Lives of the Saints” again.
CHAPTER II
Riverbank in June is beautiful. Climbing the hills above the Mississippi the streets are arches of elms and maples, the grass richly green, and the shrubs are in blossom.
Up one of these rather steep hill streets, the last day of June, Harvey Redding climbed, with Lem now at his side and now falling behind to investigate something that caught his attention. Harvey was hot. He had put on a coat and the sun was warm and the climb stiff for a fat man. He stopped once in a while to take off his hat and wipe his face. When he did he called to Lem with unwonted gentleness.
“Lem, you come here! Don't be strayin' around all over the neighborhood!”
To these mild commands Lem paid no attention whatever.