SNAKING.
Very talkative people always seemed to me to be divided into two classes-those who lie for a purpose and those who lie for the love of lying; and Sam Baxter belonged, with broad impartiality, to both. With him falsehood was not more frequently a means than an end; for he would not only lie without a purpose but at a sacrifice. I heard him once reading a newspaper to a blind aunt, and deliberately falsifying the market reports. The good old lady took it all in with a trustful faith, until he quoted dried apples at fifty cents a yard for unbolted sides; then she arose and disinherited him. Sam seemed to regard the fountain of truth as a stagnant pool, and himself an angel whose business it was to stand by and trouble the waters.
'You know Ben Dean,' said Sam to me one day; 'I'm down on that fellow, and I'll tell you why. In the winter of '68 he and I were snaking together in the mountains north of the Big Sandy.'
'What do you mean by snaking, Sam?'
'Well,
'We go about, raise up the rocks, tie the worms into convenient bundles and carry them to the snakery, where, during the snow season, they are assorted, labelled according to quality, and packed away for transportation. Sometimes a single showman will have as many as a dozen snakers in the mountains all winter.
'Ben and I were out, one day, and had gathered a few sheaves of prime ones, when we discovered a broad stone that showed good indications, but we couldn't raise it. The whole upper part of the mountain seemed to be built mostly upon this one stone. There was nothing to be done but mole it-dig under, you know; so taking the spade I soon widened the hole the creatures had got in at, until it would admit my body. Crawling in, I found a kind of cell in the solid rock, stowed nearly full of beautiful serpents, some of them as long as a man. You would have revelled in those worms! They were neatly disposed about the sides of the cave, an even dozen in each berth, and some odd ones swinging from the ceiling in hammocks, like sailors. By the time I had counted them roughly, as they lay, it was dark, and snowing like the mischief. There was no getting back to head-quarters that night, and there was room for but one of us inside.'
'Inside what, Sam?'
'See here! have you been listening to what I'm telling you, or not? There is no use telling
'But, Sam, according to
'Now, who said anything about your astronomy? I'd like to know who is telling this-you or I? Always think you know more than I do-and always swearing it isn't so-and always taking the words out of my mouth, and-but what's the use of arguing with
'Then it went through my mind like a flash what was the matter. Finding it cold outside, Ben had made a roaring fire on the top of the rock, and the heat had deceived the worms into the belief that it was late spring. As I lay there and thought of a full-grown man who hadn't any better sense than to do such a thing as
'But, Sam, you said the entrance was open, and the moon shining in.'
'There you go again! Always contradicting-and insinuating that the moon must remain for hours in one position-and saying you've heard it told better by some one else-and wanting to fight! I've told this story to your brother over at Milk River more than a hundred million times, and he never said a word against it.'
'I believe you, Samuel; for he is deaf as a tombstone.'
'Tell you what to do for him! I know a fellow in Smith's Valley will cure him in a minute. That fellow has cleaned the deafness all out of Washington County a dozen times. I never knew a case of it that could stand up against him ten seconds. Take three parts of snake-root to a gallon of waggon-grease, and-I'll go and see if I can find the prescription!'
And Sam was off like a rocket.
MAUD'S PAPA.
That is she in the old black silk-the one with the gimlet curls and the accelerated lap-cat. Doesn't she average about as I set her forth?
'Never told you anything about her?' Well, I will.
Twenty years ago, many a young man, of otherwise good character, would have ameliorated his condition for that girl; and would have thought himself overpaid if she had restored a fosy on his sepulchre. Maud would have been of the same opinion-and wouldn't have construed the fosy. And she was the most sagacious girl I ever experienced! As you shall hear.
I was her lover, and she was mine. We loved ourselves to detraction. Maud lived a mile from any other house-except one brick barn. Not even a watch-dog about the place-except her father. This pompous old weakling hated me boisterously; he said I was dedicated to hard drink, and when in that condition was perfectly incompatible. I did not like him, too.
One evening I called on Maud, and was surprised to meet her at the gate, with a shawl drawn over her head, and apparently in great combustion. She told me, hastily, the old man was ill of a fever, and had nearly derided her by going crazy.
This was all a lie; something had gone wrong with the old party's eyes-amanuensis of the equinox, or something; he couldn't see well, but he was no more crazy than I was sober.
'I was sitting quietly by him,' said Maud, 'when he sat up in bed and be-
And, blowing her eyes on the corner of her shawl, Maud shot away like a comic.
I walked hurriedly into the house, and entered the old man's dromedary, without