That was the cut of old Seth Blinn.
Finger was stuck in ev’ry pie
Or else he’d know the reason why;
But when he quit how people swore,
For things was wuss’n they was before.”
—Ballads of “Queer Capers.”
By Judas,” remarked Hiram, admiringly, to Peak for the tenth time since they had observed the astonishing contretemps in the road, “I’m proud of that brother of mine. I didn’t know ’twas in him. I was afraid he was only lawyer and nothin’ else.”
He relighted his cigar. “I’ve got to own up to you, Sime, that we wasn’t gettin’ along together the best that ever was. I thought he had got soaked with too many sissy notions, and there’s nothin’ that makes a circus man so sick as sissy notions. You know that! But I tell you, Sime, if he can do a job like that and only holds out now as he’s commenced, him and me is goin’ to get along fine after this.”
“He seemed to be feelin’ awful bad when he went into the house,” remarked Peak, solicitously.
“I didn’t notice it,” cried Hiram; “well, if that’s the case, he’s got to be chirked up. I don’t want him to lose any of his grip.”