Curt Bellew got to his feet, stretched his six-foot frame, smoothed his beard and tramped down heavily on one foot.
“Settin’ makes me stiff,” he said apologetically. “Got t’ move around a little.”
He half limped toward the kitchen door.
“Does kinda cramp yuh, Curt,” agreed old Buck West.
His wife reached for him, but too late. He didn’t look toward her, but followed Curt Bellew.
One by one they complained of inaction and sauntered out.
“I never seen so many men cravin’ exercise,” declared Mrs. West. “Ordinarily Buck’s a great setter.”
The women grinned knowingly at each other. They all knew Uncle Hozie had opened the liquor. Aunt Emma came down the stairs, looking quickly around the room.
“Oh, they’re all out in the kitchen, Emmy,” said Mrs. Bellew. “Said they was gettin’ cramped from settin’ around.”
“Oh, I s’pose Hozie couldn’t wait any longer. He swore he’d get drunk. Said he had to get drunk in order to forget that coat he’s got on. But he’s been pretty temp’rance for the last year or so, and a little mite of liquor won’t hurt him.”