"I carry this all the time, to defend myself an' child," sez she, rufflin' up like a hen when you pick up her chicken, an' she was so earnest about it that I nearly choked, swallerin' a grin; 'cause honest, I could 'a' snuffed the thing up my nose.
I pulled a long face an' sez to her as solemn as a judge, "Is there enough food and water in the house to stand a siege, in case the Chinaman'd pen us up?" Her face grew drawn an' worried until she caught the twinkle in my eye, an' then she broke into a simile an' tripped upstairs like a girl. I stood out in the hall a moment lookin' after her an' I was mighty glad I had come. We was both in need of company; her mind was a heap easier than it had been that mornin', an' I felt better than I had for some several days. I couldn't see where Sandy Fergoson had told me anything that would get me any nearer what Barbie wanted to know; an' yet I couldn't keep my mind off studyin' over it, except when I was busy. It was the same with Bill Andrews, an' I was glad to have some one new to worry over until I got tuned up again.
As soon as she shut an' locked her door, I backed into my stall an' looked about. The' was some invitin' lookin' books on the wall, an' I read over the titles, finally selectin' one called, "The Ten Years' Conflict." Now, if ever the' was a name framed up to deceive the innocent, this here was the name. I opened the book with my mouth waterin', thinkin' I was about to wade through two volumes of gore; but it started out to tell about the Church of Scotland, an' I wasn't able to keep awake to even the beginnin' of the scrap; so I started to prepare myself for the morrow's duties, as the preacher sez.
After I had opened my roll an' took out my guns, so I could show 'em to her in the mornin' an' sort o' cheer her up, I shed my boots an' proceeded to occupy my bunk. Say, it was like floppin' down on a tubful o' suds. Springs! Well, you should have seen Uncle Happy bouncin' up an' down. I reckon I went to sleep in mid-air, 'cause I was too tired to remember whether I was a husky maid or a tender man.
When I came to, I thought it must sure be the last day, an' that I had waited for the very last call. The dinner-bell was a-knockin' all the echoes in the house loose an' they was fallin' on my ear-drums in bunches. I rushed out into the hall an' grabbed that bell by the tongue, an' give a yell to let her know that I was ready for orders. She opened the door an' came to the head of the stairs, an' sez, "Hush-shh! Don't make any noise."
"Noise!" sez I. "The' ain't any left. You used up all the raw material. What seems to be wrong?"
"Fido has just been growlin'," sez she, in a low whisper, "an' I heard a noise out in the bushes."
"What shall I do?" sez I. "Come up there an' toss Fido out into the bushes, so as to kill two birds with one stone?"
"No," sez she. "If you are willin' to take the risk, I wish that you would go out the front door an' lock it after you. Then look around careful and see if he is settin' fire to the house. Take my revolver an' Fido, an' do be careful not to get hurt—an' don't kill him unless you have to."
"I won't kill him unless I see him, an' he won't hurt me unless he sees me first," sez I. "You better keep Fido an' the gun. I don't want to be bothered with a couple o' noncombatants."