"Thar's none like Nancy Lee, I trow,
Ow! Ow!
"Oh, mother, Bolt's give me a half-interest, and ain't this a happy little home, my darlin'!"
At that Mrs. Pete flung her skinny arms around his neck, and the two silly old things sobbed together.
A week later, when, to save Pete a long tramp, Billy rode down with the rations, he found the old people concerned "about this yere partnership."
"Mother allows this Brooke is trash," said Pete, wagging his snowy head, "and for all the interest he takes he's mostly corpse. Thar's shorely holes in my 'skito bar."
Billy read the letter thoughtfully.
"Brooke been to see the riggings?" he asked.
"Once in December. He don't know nothin', either."
"Wonder what he wants?"
"Smells mean, eh?"