“ABOUT A BUSHEL.” A QUAIL STORY 
““O! de pa’tridge do some skippin’ when she see heem on the swamp, 
For she know Bateese don’ go for not’ing dere, 
When de rabbit see him comin’, wall! you ought to see heem jomp. 
Why he want to climb de tree, he feel so scare. 
After two hour by de reever I hear his leetle song 
Den I meet heem, all his pockets full of snipe, 
An’ me, I go de sam’ place, an’ I tramp de w’ole day long 
An’ I’m only shootin’ two or t’ree, Ba Cripe.”’ 
—Wwma. HENRY DRUMMOND. 
‘* COUGHVILLE! COUGHVILLE!”’ called the brakeman, 
hurrying through the last car. The train was six hours 
late but at last we were in Coffeeville. It was half an 
hour after midnight. Few people were about. Except 
two or three saloons or restaurants across the street 
from the depot everything was dark. The ticket seller 
locked his door, after telling me he hoped for two hours 
sleep before opening up for the two-thirty train. 
“Where does the two-thirty train go?”’ I asked. 
“Through the Territory,’”’ he answered. It was the 
train I wanted but it was a long two hours, waiting on 
the platform. It was toostuffy inside. When I bought 
my ticket I asked: 
““Why does the train start at such an unearthly 
hour?”’ 
“It’s an accommodation train,’ the ticket seller 
said. ‘“‘It enters the Indian Territory at 3 A. M. and 
that’s daytime for the Indians down there. Indians 
are early birds. Don’t you remember the habit they 
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