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THE S IORY OF DENIS By Guy de Maupassant
MONSIEUR MARAMBOT Opened the letter
which had been hand<-d to him by his ser
vant, Deniz, and smiled.
Denis. who had been with him twenty years, was
a thick-set. Jovial little man, quoted in the whole
community as a model servant. Presently he in
quired:
"la Monsieur glad? Has Monsieur received some
good news?
M. Marambot was not wealthy. He was a retired
druggist and bachelor, and lived off a tiny Income
derived Horn a small capital which he had had a
good deal of trouble to amass by selling: various
pharmaceutical products to the peasants of the re
gion. He replied:
'Yes. my good man. Old Malols is backing out ot
the suit I had threatened to institute against him;
I will get my money to-morrow. Five tho und
francs is qnite a bit to add to the savings of an
old bachelor like myself."
And M Marambot rubbed bls hands joyfully at
the thought. He was a resigned sort of man,
with a mournful rather than a jovial temperament
and was absolutely Incapable of any sustained ef
fort In pursuing business success.
He would have acquired a much larger compe
tency had he taken advantage of the deaths of va
rious established colleagues in several Important
business centres to take over their pharmacies
But the trouble of moving and the thought of all
the things he would have to undertake had always
kept him from making a change; so. after consid
ering the matter for a day or two, he would simply
conclude:
"Pshaw! I'll wait till the next opportunity comes
along. Ml lose nothing by waiting. Perhaps some
thing much better will yet come my way."
Denis,, on the contrary, was always urging his
maeter to make a change. He was an active, ener
getic man and liked to repeat:
“Oh! Had I ever had any capital I would have
made a fortune! Only one thousand francs and I
wouM have seen my way clear!”
M. Marambot would only smile at this declara
tion and vouchsafe no reply. He would go into his
little garden and walk slowly up and down with
his hands behind his back, absorbed In dreams
All that day Denis sang around the house; he
even displayed unusual Industry, for he washed
all the windows with great energy, the while he
bawled out his refrains at the top of his lungs
M. Marambot, surprised by the unwonted alert
ness of his servant, smilingly remarked several
times:
"If you work so hard to-day, my good man. you
won't have anything left to do to-morrow,”
The following day, at 9 o'clock In the morning
the postman handed Denis several letters for his
master, .me ot which was quite heavy, m. Maram
bot shut himself up at once In his room and re
malned there until late in the afternoon. When he
«■ i ——— —reew rr -w vjin . ,
OUT OF WORK - - - By Harris Merton Lyon
JIM KELLY. bachelor and odd-job man, at the
age of fifty-five had been for sixteen months
without work
He waited day after day on a bench in
Madison Square, looking attentively at his finger
nails. His coat was of black cloth, turned a cheap
green; his vest of a brown check, and his trousers,
ravelled at the edges, were dark blue and very
ti-'h'-fitting Indeed, they fitted him »o tightly that
bis shrunk shanks looked like bird legs In them,
and then, above, the little bfrdlike face with the
b.ady eyes helped out the resemblance. He had
needed a shave for four days and his nose was sus
piciously red. Hut hls collar was clean, and the
tops of the toes of his shoes were black; for ho was
bunting a job.
Nobody knew where Kelly lived, if he really lived
an. where, it seemed as If he somehow, in a mys
terious fashion, existed without the aid of meals
and s tep, for at any hour of the twenty-four you
‘ 3,1,1 >a- the little jerky fountain and find him.
m Id! Inoffensive as ever, warming the same famil
iar bench, hopeful, talkative, but passive and
irresolute.
"To tell yuh the truth." he would say, "rm
ashamed to ask for work. That’s a fact
ashamed! For sixteen months now, goln' on seven
teen, I've trl.-d—an- tried hard—and can’t get it.
An what ve 1 done? Why, I’ve done nothin' to
nobody. Other men. no better’n me. have turned
the trick before niy very eves. sir. Yes. sir It
must be something in my looks. I've concluded, an'
so I've give up goln’ around myself and lettln' them
fellers turn me down. I’ve got a cousin Sam-Sam
McGrath: he's out o' work, too, and I’m lettln’ Sam
do the askin’ for both of us." Then he would fold
Ins hands across his abdomen, blink his little eyes,
and wait amid the green trees and the sparrows to
hear the good word from Sam.
Somehow you got the Impression that Jim was
s decent, clean old man. Little things ho dropped
in conversation, little hints of his former life. "1
began life as an actor, sir, though you'd never
Gunk It lie said one day. "It was a melodrama
■ hlch showed in little country towns; the manager
was a very nice man. but he left one dav without
payin' us our money. I never thought anything
bard of him myself for doin’ It. 'cause he'd really
been losin' a lot on the troupe, but some of the
others— he. he!—they gave him fits." He had been
in advertising solicitor, an Insurance agent, a pro
• ssional baseball player, an assistant in a billiard
had. proprietor of a small newsstand. "It was
t.>er* I took a likin' to readln*. I used to read
almost everything on the stand, especially the pic
tures Occasionally now in the park he read a
newspape- which some one had dropped, and the
’■’ r < " f Rhe liked best was the scare-head story
' s ""d.<y supplement Occasionally he talked
• lb' arious wanderers who came and went
nark r o one. Kelly spoke of tobacco,
t young o'erk. off for his noon hour, greedily
hi-o' ng a cigarette
I neve; smoke no more; It hurts my eyes. Any
way. ti er s . ;i, t per cent o’ nicotine in American
coos, co an only one an’ three-fourths per cent n
tobacco. I read It in a magazine." it
o» a ti f ’““ e convPlSatio '’ indulged in
- ossual v while waiting for the return of Sam
world - v 1 ? °" e Pr,,le ' thoUSl '- ’ hls walf of i'>»
felhe i. lrt , ,r" thal l '" e °
M sd. pointing to where, in the thick dusk •.
' n » of wretched men were forming beneath th.
<ame out he gave his man four envelopes to take
io the post office. One of these was addressed to
Mr Malols. and undoubtedly contained the receipt
for the money.
Denis asked no questions of his master; he
seemed to be as sad and depressed now as he had
been cheerful and lively the day before.
Night camo and M. Marambot retired to his bed
room and soon was sound asleep.
Tn the middle of the night he was awakened by a
peculiar noise. He raised himself to a sitting
posture and listened attentively. But, all of a sud
den. his door was pushed open and Denis as white
as a ghost, appeared on the threshold with a candle
in one hand and a large kitchen knife In the other;
his eyes were bulging out of his head and bls Ups
and cheeks were twitching convulsively, as If he
were laboring under some violent emotion.
M. Marambot, greatly bewildered, thought that
tie servant had suddenly developed somnambulistic
tendencies and lie was about to leap out of bed to
awaken him. when suddenly the fellow blew out
the candle and made a rush for his master. The
druggie, spread his hands before him to receive the
shock v hich, when it came, sent him sprawling on
his back; then he madly endeavored to seize the
man’s arm In order to parry the blows that he
rained on the bed. M. Marambot was now thor
oughly convinced that his servant had gone mad.
she knife he wielded struck the druggist on the
shoulder, on the forehead and on the chest. M
Marambot fought desperately to escape and jerked
his hands and feet madly about in the dark, the
while ho shouted:
"Denis! Denis’ Are you mad. Denis?”
Hut the crazed and panting man kept on slash
ing right nnd left, although repulsed vigorously by
hand and foot. M. Marambot was struck again on
the thigh and on the abdomen. But suddenly a
thought flashed through hfs mind and he yelled
"Hold on there. Denis, hold on! I didn't get the
money."
The fellow Stopped on the spot, and his ma-t-r
could hear his gasping breath in the dark.
M. Marambot immediately proceeded:
"I did not receive it. M. Malols had gone back on
his word, and my suit is going to be pressed, after
all; that's why I gave you those letters to mall
Besides, you can read the ones that are Iving on my
desk.”
And with a supreme effort he reached over for
some matches which were Ding on a little table
near his bed and lit his candle.
He was covered with blood and so were the wall*
The curtains and bedclothes wore dripping and
scarlet, and Denis, bespattered from head to foot
stood In the middle of the room.
When M Marambot took In all this he thought he
surely was going to pass away and lose conscious
DPS.*’.
He came to al daybreak. It was some time be
fore ne eould gather his scattered thoughts and re
member the happenings of the night before. But
all Os a sudden the whole recollection of the at
tempted murder and of bls wounds came back to
him and he was so overwhelmed by it that he closed
his eyes to shut out the sight. But in a little while
he grew calmer, and began to reflect. He had not
died on the spot, so the chances were ths* he would
recover. Os course he felt very, very weak but he
experienced no sharp pain, though several parts of
his body felt extremely uncomfortable He also
had the sensation of being cold and wet and tied
up in bandages. He reflected that this moisture
must have come from the blood he had lost and
horrified shudders ran through his frame as he
thought of al] that red liquid which had oozed out
°f him and which covered the bod. The mere idea
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doggone it, I never done nothin to nobody for ’em to keep me down this way.”
shadow of a bronze statue. That there bunch lb
I'eggln a nights lodgin' from the people that goes
ihat squatty little man in command there does
tile biggin' for em, of course, but it's beggin* atl
tle same. Fifteen cents gits one of 'em a bed;
When the cap'n gets enough money to buy bunks
for the lot he takes 'em down on East Eight'
stie-'t to a rotten old lodgin' house. Huh! You
don t git Jim Kelly in that crowd! . . Feller
came along last night and said. Conte on over, Jim:
why don't yuli. 'stead o' sit tin' there?' I Just looked
at him. 1 did You're talkin' to Jim Kelly. 1
answered Im, 'not to a professional bum.' " He
paused and his snappy eyes gleamed defiantly.
"That's what 1 said to him. That there's the way
I feel about it."
San. tlte cousin was a different kind of man a
miser .ole braggart, but with energy enough, a good
ta'ke' and a better dressed man than Kelly. At
that he was unsliaved. unkempt, a long cadaverous
blue k - featured man. with a prominent Adam's apple
and i catarrhal, sing-song drawl
' Well, what luck. Sam'"' asked Kelly of him'
when the proxy had returned from a trip to an
express office In answer to an advertisement.
Oh. pretty good, pretty good." began McGrath
r 'c 1I
w.\' iV k ' IKWI
I i I
7 Mat* ' l
I y yr
li
“Denis, white as a ghost, appeared on the
threshhold with a candle in one hand and a
large knife in the other.”
of looking upon sueli an awful sight upset him to
such an extent that he kept his lids tightly shut as
if Un \ might possibly fly open without his consent.
What had become of Denis? In all probability
he had by now escaped from the house.
Bfit wli.it was he, Marambot. to do? Should he
get up and call tor help? But if he made the
slightest motion his wounds would surely reopen
and then lie would bleed to death.
Suddenly he heard his door open softly. Fot* a
moment his heart stood still. It must be Denis,
who was coming to finish him up. He held his
breath so that the murderer would think that
everything v. as over, that his work had been well
done.
He f-It someone raise the bedclothes and gently
touch h: abdomen, whereupon an acute pain shot
through his lilp. Now he was being.gently bathed
with cool water. A great joy overwhelmed him. hut
a reminder of prudence led him to simulate uncon
seio-ism ss. Wit i infinite precaution be opened one
He perceived Denis himself standing beside his
bed! Meicy’ He quickly shut Ills eye.
Denis! What on earth was he doing? What did
he leant. What devilish plan was he hatching now?
" hat was he doing? Why. h? was washing him. so
as to hide the traces of his crime! And perhaps he
would bury him in the garden, tefi feet under the
sod. so that he would he well out of the way. Or
perhaps in the cellar, under the bottles of fine wine.
And M. Marambot began lo shudder so violently
that his whole frame shook. "I'm lost. I'm lost.”
he thought, and closed Ills eyes tighter than ever to
wmdily. "In fact. 1 look for something from this
thing. Yessir! Wouldn't be surprised If they put
us on right away at a good salary—you know. Jim.
they pay good salaries. Well. I say 'right away;'
i mean as soon as 1 can get things goln.' It takes
time, you know, it takes time." Each sentence had
a nasal fai'.l, as if he were condoning with his hear
ers upon his ill-fortune. Though eacii idea was
repeated, curiously enough none of them carried
conviction or emphasis It Is a mark of the man
who is Insincere clear through.
"Who did yuh see?" queried Jim. curtly.
‘Oh. well, I just went over to look around, y’
know I think that's best at first—just get the lay
of tile land before I strike 'em. I didn't want to
do It too sudden because 1 knew before 1 went that
it was goln’ to take time."
"You know we've got to have work to-day," Inter
rupted Kelly. "Who’ll yun see?"
"See? W hy, I seen a young feller over there—
awful nice young feller, too. Think we’ll like
workin' there if they'r all his kind I waited till
the noon hour, when there wasn't nobody on deck,
before I braced 'em Yuh see, I just wanted to get
the lay o the land, s 1 -aid But this young guy
tol<| me the name of the boss we’ve re' to see oil
shut out the vision of the descending knife. But it
did not descend. Denis was now raising him in bed
and bandaging him. Then he carefully treated the
wound in the thigh as he had learned to do when
his master. M. Marambot, was the village druggist.
, For a man in the business doubt was no longer
* possible; the servant, after having attempted mur
der, was now trying to save his victim’s life.
So M. Marambot. in a weak voice, proceeded to
give him some practical directions:
"Wash out the wounds and dip the bandages in
water, to which add a weak solution of carbolic.’
Denis replied:
"That’s just what I am doing, monsieur."
Then M. Marambot opened both eyes. There was
not a spot of blood to be seen anywhere, neither on
the bed. nor in the room, nor on the murderer. The
wounded man was reclining on Immaculate white
sheets.
The master and his servant looked at eaeh
other.
Finally M. Marambot in a gentle tone said:
‘ Denis, you have committed a great crime.”
To which Denis replied:
"I am repairing the damage I wrought, monsieur.
If you will not denounce me I will serve you as
faithfully as in the past.”
Realizing that this was not a time to incur the
displeasure of his servant. M. Marambot closed his
eyes and murmured:
“Denis. I swear that I will not denounce you.”
Denis saved his master’s life. He watched night
and day’ at his bedside, gave him his medicine and
his potions, felt his pulse with keen anxiety, and
altogether took care of him with the skill of a
trained nurse and the devotion of a son.
Every little while he would say:
"Well, monsieur, how are you feeling now?”
And in a weak voice M. Marambot would answer:
”A little better, my good man. thank you.”
Sometimes, at night, when the sick man woke
up, he would find his nurse sitting in an armchair
close by the bed. weeping.
Never before had the retired druggist been so
spoilea and pampered. In the beginning he had
thought:
“As soon as I get on my legs again I ll rid myself
of that scoundrel.” But although he was now con
valescing. he put off from day to day the accom
plishment of this design.
He bethought himself that no one would give
him the care that Donis did and that he had a hold
over the man. and he warned Denis that he had
made a will in which he. Marambot, denounced him.
Denis, to the authorities in case anything of the
soi t ever occurred again.
This wise precaution would protect him, thought
the druggist, against any future attempts st vio
lence. and he wondered whether it would not be
more expedient to keep the man in his service, in
order to have an eye on him. than to send him
away and thus lose track of him.
As lit the past when he used to hesitate to ac
quire new business interests, he could not make up
his mind to take the step that would rid him of
his servant.
"There’ll always be time enough,” thought M.
Marambot.
Denis continued to be a model domestic. M.
Marambot was cured. So he kept him.
But one morning just as he was finishing break
fast the former druggist heard a commotion in tha
kitchen. He ran to the spot whence the noise pro
ceeded and beheld Dents battling with two power
ful gendarmes. The brigadier was jotting down
evidence in a notebook
As soon as he laid eyes on his master the man
began to sob and stammer:
right. That's quite a help, y' know. Step right up
and ask for a man by name.”
"What was his name?" asked Kelly.
Name? Mhy—ah—Langenberg or Stangenberg
or Steinberg or somethin’ like that. I talked to
this young feller 'quite a while; he said they needed
men. The voluble McGrath stopped, consciously.
I 11 go back to-morra. Jim. and cinch a job fer
us, sure.”
Kelly looked away over the little park. “You
know what this means," lie said. "Sam. we both
oughta had work to-day.”
“Yes. I know. An’ it won’t be long till we do
get it. Tiiat’s a fact. You just wait.”
There was a silence.
“Well, I’ll be movin’ on," announced Sam. "I’ll
go around to the express office an’ see this Ham
burg guy to-morra. You be around here at the
regular time. We’ll git a job sure.” And Sam
moved off at a merry gait, hls long legs full of
simulated energy.
To Kelly “to-morrow" meant indefinite nothings.
His whole life had been a game of to-morrows;
he could have gone back for forty years and started
it with a series of “ifs" and "to-morrows" and he
would have arrived just there—on the bench in the
park. An old proverb he had learned from hie
mother kept running through hls mind:
“If ifs and ans
Were kittles and pans
There’d be no need for tinkers."
Kelly fingered his necktie and gazed pensively
over the way.
“Doggone it,” he burst out at length half aloud,
"1 never done nothin’ to nobody for ’em to keep
me down this way. All my life, it's a fact. I ain’t
done nothin’ to 'em.”
If you had spoken to him. it you had told him
then that this was no virtue in him, he would not
have understood you; this was this man's logic of
life, born in him or beaten into him somewhere in
his shufflings across the earth. Now, he felt that
somehow he had been ill-used, that the wprld had
been ungrateful, that somewhere there should have
been a reward held out to him. Hls meditative,
sparrowlike eye caught sight of something.
It was the bed line of wretches over by the
statue.
"I don’t have to accept no charity, anyway,” he
muttered. He kept that one peg of pride valiantly.
“I don’t have to stand in no bed line ner bread
line.” he said to himself.
He let Sam. the good-for-nothing, drift away
quite in his old mild-mannered fashion. "I don't
begrudge him." said Kelly, crossing his thin legs.
“Live an' let live has always been ray rule. Now.
there’s some that would say all sorts o’ things
about Sam; but I've seen too much of this world.
1 know how men Is: each has hls own way. an' I
ain't got nothin' against any of ’em. not even Sam.”
Day after day. four, five, six weeks. Kelly shuf
fled up and down the streets hunting for work. In
the Intervals between searchings hd sat at his old
park bench, his hands folded across his abdomen,
gazing at hls finger nails Every paper he picked
up furnished a "want ad” page through which he
read systematically, noting the various jobs which
lie could undertake. “I know I'm old and a down
and-out.” he would say. "but there's places I could
hold, o' course—watchman, fer instance, or a jani
tor. or a freight elevator man. or somethin’.”
I’he briskly chill wind of Autumn swept through
the parks and found the patient old man still stolid
above his finger nails. He took to smoking again.
• oofanti. sacrificing hls eyes as he believed, for
“You denounced me. monsieur! How could
after you swore that you wouldn't? You h
broken your word of honor. M. Marambot it
very, very wrong of you.” Wa *
In the greatest bewilderment M. Manmi
raised his hand: ambot
“I swear before God, my good man, that I
not denounced you. I am absolutely at a loss •
know how these gentlemen ever learned that ~ °
tried to murder me." 50#
The “brigadier” gave a start.
"You say that this man tried to .murder
Monsieur Marambot?” I ’ u ’
The bewildered druggist replied:
"Why . . . yes he did . . . but j d|d
denounce him ... 1 didn’t say anything about
it ... I swear that I never breathed a word to
anybody ... he has been a good servant ever
since.” . . .
The brigadier spoke in a severe tone:
"I shall note your evidence. The law will taks
care of this new phase of the affair, of which w
were quite ignorant, believe me, Monsieur Maram
bot. I am compelled to arrest your man for hav"
Ing stolen two ducks, which he took surreptitiously
from M. Duhamel. We have witnesses to provs
the theft. I beg your pardon, Monsieur Marambot.
for Inconveniencing you, and I ehall certainly sub.
mit your testimony.”
And turning to his men he commanded:
"Forward, march!”
The two gendarmes dragged Denis away with
them. "
The lawyer for the defense had invoked in
sanity and had made use of the two criminal arts'
to strengthen hts plea. He proved clearly that ths
larceny of the ducks had resulted from the same
mental condition that had prompted the assault on
Monsieur Marambot.
Hel had analyzed with great skill the different
phases of temporary insanity and concluded his
defense by stating that this client would, without
doubt, be cleared, if he were committed for a cer
tain length of time to some sanitarium.
He had spoken in glowing terms ot the lifelong
devotion of the honest and trustworthy servant,
and of the wonderful care he had given the mas
ter he had wounded in a fit of mental aberration.
Touched to the heart at the recollection of
Denis’s devotion, M. Marambot felt tears well to his
eyes.
The lawyer noticed his emotion and, spreading
his arms with their flowing sleeves until they
looked like the wings ot a bat, he shouted in en
thusiastic tones:
•Behold, gentlemen of the jury, behold these
tears! What more can I say in behalf of my
client? What arguments, what oration would be
as good as the tears that this man's master l»
shedding? The) speak louder than I could speak,
louder even than the law; and they seem to say
‘Have mercy on the demented wretch!’ These are
tears which impl#re, which pardon, which bless.”
He stopped and resumed his seat.
Then the Judge, turning to Marambot, whose tes
timony had been all in favor of his servant, in
qulred:
"But still, monsieur, even admitting that you
considered the man crazy, that does not explain to
us why you kept him. He was very dangerous to
have around.”
Monsieur Marambot wiped his eyes and replied:
‘•Well, you see, your Honor, it is so hard to get
any servant nowadays. I don’t think that I eould
have gotten a better one.” . . .
And Denis, after being acquitted, was placed la
sanitarium at his master’s expense.
he had found a pipe in the street one night end he
got tobacco by hunting cigar vtubs in the gutter.
A strong smoko will drive off hunger, it )« tme;
but it is a bad expedient for hungry old men—and
Kelly was fifty-five. The unaccustomed tobacco
end the cold night winds gave him a cough in hu»
throat. The rheumatism attacked his knees; an
ache came somewhere Into the small of his back,
and his nerves were badly shaken by a oonrphoa
tion of all such things.
One day he heard indirectly from Sasn through
another broken friend.
"Say, Jim, Sam’s worktn’ ever at Bloomington-
Swifts! Sure, he's been there a week—roore’n a
week. Ain't you workin’ now? I thought yeuss
two was btttnmin' it together.”
"Well, he’s got the gift o’ gab,” Kelly explained,
kindly. "I guessed he co-uld gab himself into a
job. I’m goln’ to work soon myself," ha added,
with a touch of pride. "I ain’t got nothin’ against
Bam. Pact is, I'm—l’m glad to hear it"
The other pointed over toward the statue. ’S3o , n’
over?' he asked, hoping for an affirmative. Two
can shift the centre of gravity of a load of shame
so that it will weigh on nelther’s heart.
"Well, I guess not!” answered Kelly, with a fins
toss of his head, teetering on his slim legs and
looking for the moment like a gray, defiant old
cooksparrow. "You don't git me dotn' that! I
tnay be down, Bill, but I ain’t out—no, slr-ree. Tvs
made up my mind never to accept no tlherity.
That's what, now." The other slunk away.
So Sam had ditched him! He hadn't anything
against him for It. though. It was all right; yes.
it was all right, he guessed. He sat looking up s«
the stars for a long, long time, recasting In hls
mind what few poor little things he knew about
the human battle going on beneath that glittering
chandelier. For the first time he wondered with
a vague fear what was going to happen to him; he
f’lt the full contrast between Sam's success and
hls own failure. Then he went to sleep beneath a
newspaper.
He sat quiet in the sun all the next day. like a
man In a stupor. Hls mind refused to go out into
the busy world, hls legs wore benumbed with the
apathy of defeat Though the old man did not
know it, hls consciousness had closed tn upon itself
and was busy with the useless little things pertain
ing to itself. It was as if a curtain had been pulled
town between Kelly and life. He stared at a patch
on hls shoe for three-quarters of an hour; he became
rapt In a consideration of his finger nails, of a vest
button, of a ravelling, without once thinking of t!l «
big necessities of living. It is a sardonic fact that
hls brain was in the same lethal state in which It
would have been If ho were possessor of all the
imperial Injury of Rome. He dreamed poor, com
mon, dumb dreams, but he had no desire for action.
That night ho was In his old accustomed place
In Madison Square, looking, looking, always look
ing out into the street before him. By the old
statue the clump of shivering men stood clustered
together, awaiting alms. They drifted bashfully
about, at least companionable in their misery, and
soon formed into a ragged, shapeless line. Kelly
thought of the previous night under a newspaper,
of the rheumatics in his thin knees, of the ache la
hls back . . . and bowed his head.
Some swift Impulse took hold of him. and, Imme
diately that it had. a curious warmth of haste, a
fear lest he be too late, a greedy desire to get Into
tile foremost rank made him hurry across the street.
"Shucks." he murmured to himself. “I might as
well go over there and git in with them fellers'
(tot'jnxht, bj Harris Merten Lyon and Published d; permissi a I