"Never mind, old man, I know what yer mean. You're my friend all right; but you can't say nuthin' that will help me now. I guess I must cash in pretty soon; but I ain't no coward, Bill; I've just been prayin' and everything is all right 'tween me and God. I don't know what'll become of the old woman and the kids, but I guess He'll take care of them. Maybe they will be better off when I'm gone than when I'm here. I'll tell you, Bill, booze don't get yer much when the doctor says you're up. I wish I'd cut 'er out the first time we saw the gospel wagon down on the square. The Mission man was here just a little while ago, an' he says he will help Jimmie take care of Ma and the kids. He says Jesus loves me, and when he prayed I put in too and says, 'I'm ready, Lord.'"

Moore's effort to talk exhausted his strength and brought on a sinking spell. He gasped and coughed and grasped his throat as though he was strangling. Bill thought he was dying, and grabbing his hat started for the door, telling Jimmie to stay there while he brought the doctor. The scene had been too much for his shattered nerves, and, reaching the middle of the sidewalk, he stood and yelled at the top of his voice:

"Moore's dyin'! Moore's dyin'! Git the doctor and the undertaker and der Mission man, quick! Moore's dyin'! Moore's dyin'!"

CHAPTER III

"The Busted Funeral"

The commotion that followed made dying a hard matter for Moore. When the doctor and Mrs. Moore reached the house it took them ten minutes, with the help of Dave Beach, to clear the room of the people. When Mr. and Mrs. Morton came, quiet had been restored on the inside, but on the street and at Fagin's they were talking about the funeral expenses, etc., before they had a corpse. In this neighborhood a funeral was looked upon as something of a party or social function, not to be missed. Every one turned out, never failing to dress for the occasion. Mrs. Rose, Mrs. Kinney and Mrs. Washington (colored) were easily in the lead when it came to professional mourners. As Dave Beach said one time, they "could cry real tears at a moment's notice, and keep it up as long as the water lasted and occasion demanded." When Charlie Slater was drowned in the Slough they cried for three days with Mrs. Slater, never going home for meals. Both they and their children put black crape on their arms and lived and cried with Mrs. Slater until Charlie was found. Mrs. Rose kept the crape, and after a funeral would wash and iron it and put it in the "burer" drawer until some one else died. When she heard Bill's cry, she came running with a piece tied on each arm and at least twenty pieces in her hand to supply the neighbors. That she considered her first and solemn duty. Inside of five minutes after Bill yelled and gave the alarm, every one of the regulars was decorated for action.

Bill went to Fagin's and got three big drinks without money, on the strength of Moore's death. He went into the back room, buried his face in his hands and began to weep. He was honest in his weeping, but he had too many drinks aboard and his snores soon told their own story. Bill's cry of "Moore's dyin'!" was soon turned to "Moore's dead; Bill says so." Of course Bill knew nothing of the disturbance he had created, and slept peacefully on in Fagin's back room. In the meantime Mrs. Cook was trying to "square" Bill with the neighbors. After the mistake was discovered every one blamed Bill that Moore was alive. Bill and his wife would fight with each other almost daily. Bill would swear that he had not tasted a drop when he was so drunk he could scarcely see. He contended that he was never drunk so long as he was sober enough to deny it. Mrs. Cook was possessed of an uncontrollable temper, and when she became angry—and she always did when Bill lied to her—she would completely lose control of herself. As Jimmie said one day:

"Gee, der old girl'll bounce irons er any old thing she can git her mitts on when she's sore. Her nose and her chin comes together so fast when she talks dat she's got corns on both of 'em."

She washed and worked until three or four o'clock in the morning to care for her children, and would do anything she could for any one, but when she got "sore," as Jimmie said, every one gave her the right of way. "She calls Bill every name on der calendar, but when it comes ter any one else saying a word about him, she won't stand fer it."

"If Bill said that Bob Moore's dead, he's dead, er soon will be," she said. "He knows a dead one when he sees it. It's a sure thing anyhow, and what difference does an hour or two make? The doctor says he's done fer anyhow."