The Last of the Plainsmen 



As I lay there in my bag, the very happiest fellow 

 in the wide world, the sound of my mirth was as the 

 buzz of the wings of a fly to the mighty storm. Roar 

 on roar filled the cabin. 



When the three hypocrites recovered sufficiently 

 from the startling climax to calm Lawson, who 

 swore the cabin had been attacked by Indians ; when 

 Jones stopped roaring long enough to hear it was 

 only a harmless snake that had caused the trouble, 

 we hushed to repose once more not, however, with 

 out hearing some trenchant remarks from the boiling 

 Colonel anent fun and fools, and the indubitable fact 

 that there was not a rattlesnake on Buckskin 

 Mountain. 



Long after this explosion had died away, I heard, 

 or rather felt, a mysterious shudder or tremor 

 of the cabin, and I knew that Frank and Jim were 

 shaking with silent laughter. On my own score, I 

 determined to find if Jones, in his strange make-up, 

 had any sense of humor, or interest in life, or feeling, 

 or love that did not center and hinge on four-footed 

 beasts. In view of the rude awakening from what, 

 no doubt, were pleasant dreams of wonderful white 

 and green animals, combining the intelligence of man 

 and strength of brutes a new species creditable to 

 his genius I was perhaps unjust in my conviction 

 as to his lack of humor. And as to the other ques- 



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