154 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CEUISER 



I could imagine some of those tedium destroying 

 spats. 



"What became of Jake?" I shouted. 



"Hey! Oh, we'd been quar'lin putty reg'lar and 

 Jake come in one night and hung up his hat on one 

 of them nails over yonder, an' while he was washin' 

 up for dinner I sez to him, says I, 'Jake, what ye 

 been a doin' this arternoon?' He jest grunted an' 

 set down to supper and never said a word endurin' 

 th' meal. 



"Afterward Jake gits up an' starts off fer th' 

 barn plumb mad, fergittin' his hat, he's so putt out 

 over my questionin' him thataway. 'Whar y' 

 goin'!' I hollers after him, not thinkin' he'd answer, 

 but he does. 'Oh I'm jist goin' t' hunt th' burros,' 

 he says, mighty sarcastic. 



"Well, sir, that was four year ago, and I hain't 

 never laid eyes on Jake sence. An' them two bur- 

 ros he went t' hunt, they dis'peared 'bout th' same 

 time." 



The old man chuckled inaudibly, sucking his pipe 

 with vast enjoyment. 



Just then there sounded a rousing knock at the 

 door. Eeed stiffened, shifted in his chair, took his 

 pipe in his left hand while his right lay negligently 

 in the vicinity of his hip pocket, and cried out, 

 "Come in!" 



There entered at the summons a little, weazened 

 man with bowed shoulders and a preternaturally 

 solemn countenance, wrinkled as to forehead and 



