192 



RECREA T/OiV. 



corn, weak; no buyers. Milk firm at 5 cents 

 until we learned to rope a cow. 



About this time occurred a frenzied flurry 

 in the poultry market. We had been shoot- 

 ing woodchucks a mile or so back of the 

 lake. Soon after our return an aged granger 

 appeared. 



" Which of you fellers has been shoot- 

 in'? " he queried. 



" All of us," I answered. 



' Then you are the fellers what shot my 

 duck." 



" Nonsense! " we replied, " We are gen- 

 tlemen sportsmen and would scorn to shoot 

 your duck. Where was it shot? " 



" Right in my yard, up on Salem road." 



" Now look here, my senile friend; " I 

 said severely, " we have not fired a shot 

 within a mile of your place. You will have 

 to find another market." 



" Dunno 'bout findin' a market," said the 

 old fellow, " but I can durn easy find a con- 

 stable. You can pay 75 cents for my duck 

 or be took before the Squire." 



We remembered the disquieting text: 

 " We were strangers and ye took us in." 

 Besides, we had no money to waste in sub- 

 sidizing the judiciary, and the Squire was 

 likely enough cousin to our accuser or at 

 least to owe him a barrel of cider. We paid 

 the bill and the old man left us. Before he 

 was out of hearing the boy called after him, 

 "Hey! Where is our duck?" "Over at 

 the house; you can get it but taint worth 

 while." The boy trudged off, and presently 

 returned with a gosling which was flapping 

 its pinfeathered wings and squawling dis- 

 mally. We examined our purchase. It 

 weighed about 3 ounces. On its head were a 

 few drops of blood. Behind each ear was a 

 small wound, and by lifting the skin from 

 the skull we could pass a straw into one 

 opening and out the other. Without trying 

 to rival the perspicacity of Sherlock 

 Holmes, I venture the assertion that a small 

 skewer would make just such a wound. 



The following day we went to the farm- 

 house to ask how high provisions had 

 soared. As we turned the corner of the 

 barn we ran against our duck seller in time 

 to hear him say, " Now 3 more are gone." 

 We were palsied with apprehension. 



' Three what? " I cried, huskily. 

 "Ducks?" 



" Naw," he said; " calves." 



This was awful ! I steadied myself against 

 the barn and strove to speak boldly. " Are 

 they big enough for bob veal? " I inquired, 

 witheringly, "Produce their shot perforated 

 carcasses and put a price on them." 



The old man grinned. " Oh, they aint 

 been shot," he said, " they've ony strayed. 

 How did you like your duck? " 



A few days later we returned from a 

 tramp and caught an emaciated cur eating 

 our last ham. There being no one in sight, 

 we endowed ourselves with the right of high 

 justice and visited condign punishment on 

 the despoiler. We were hungry and decided 

 to postpone the obsequies until after supper. 

 So we threw the deceased into the bushes 

 behind the tent, and attended to the wants 

 of the living. While eating we had another 

 call; this time from a tall, burly man with a 

 bad eye. He said he had lost a dog, best 

 bird dog in the county; wouldn't take $25 

 for him. We had seen no such animal, and 

 swore to the fact with an earnestness and 

 unanimity that at length convinced our 

 calhr. He wandered around the tent awhile, 

 getting dangerously near the bushes, and 

 then departed whistling and calling "Tige! 

 Tige ! " 



It was very sad, and we will hereafter 

 bury our dead before partaking of the 

 funeral baked meats. We did the most char- 

 itable thing we could think of under the dis- 

 tressing circumstances — sank the defunct, 

 with a stone tied to his neck, near an eel pot 

 belonging to his bereaved master. I trust 

 that gentleman has before this received 

 some return from his dog in eels. 



At the end of 2 weeks our commissary de- 

 partment collapsed. We could not catch 

 any fish, and the neighboring farmers had 

 our money as well as all their edible crops 

 under lock and key. We did not care to risk 

 burglary so decided to return home, and 

 did so by giving our joint note for the cart- 

 age. 



I can heartily recommend the region 

 to anyone who thinks he is having hard luck 

 now. He will be convinced to the contrary 

 when he gets there. As soon as I can sell a 

 descriptive article to Recreation, I am go- 

 ing back to try the shooting. There will be 

 considerable of it done, I fancy, when the 

 natives hear I have arrived. 



WHEN THE FROST COMES OUT THE GUMBO. 



STANLEY SNOW. 



When the frost is on the pnnkin 



An' the fodder's in the shock, 

 A farmer out in gumbo land 



Ken market grain an' stock ; 

 But when it gets near Easter time, 



The frost comes out the ground 

 An' eggs an' stuff just have to keep, 



Till paw ken get to town ; 



An' children comin' home from school 



Must wait outside the door. 

 Till maw inspects their shoes for fear, 



They muss the kitchen floor ; 

 But were it not for gumbo land, 



An' Rubes an' hogs an' corn, 

 Our golden West would be a frost, 



As sure as you were born. 



