“Who, Col. LaFayette, and the others of De Ate?”
Those were the only friends he knew. He had not been to church in forty years, and no preacher had ever put foot in his home.
“Is there no woman or minister of the gospel?” asked Sid.
“Not one,” echo answered.
With these thoughts running through his mind Sid mounted his mule and started to the several homes of his friends to announce the sad news. He had not gone far when he met Col. LaFayette and others, riding through eight inches of snow, on their way to Washington for a drinking frolic. Thinking of nothing but the exhilarating glass that awaited them at The Merry Bowl, they did not recognize Sid Malone as he came riding down the road.
The death of his father had softened Sid, and his heart was sore. When his companions came in sight he was thinking of the uncertainty of life and the certainty of death, a subject he had never considered before. The turning place for him, he argued, had come. But alas! he met his old cronies, and the flow of serious thought was diverted.
“Turn back, boys, don’t go to town to-day,” said Sid, as he recognized his pals. “Turn back, my daddy’s daid!”
“Oh, Sid, don’t tell me that your daddy air daid,” cried Col. LaFayette, throwing up his hands at the unexpected and shocking announcement. “How kin it be?”
“It shore is the truth, and I want you fellers to help me give him a decent burial.”
“Well, Sid, there ain’t nothin’ that I wouldn’t do for Uncle Billy Malone, daid or alive, and as quick as I go up town and tend to a little bizness I’ll be wid you.”