Red Saunders' Pets and Other CrittersPhillips, Henry Wallace
General
Red Saunders' Pets and Other Critters
Phillips, Henry Wallace
Humorous stories
I found myself upon my hands and knees; in a cabin, all right, but the
cabin was on the prairie. I looked around, stupid with sleep. The
familiar sights met my eye--Oscar tiptoeing about, bow-legged, arms
spread like wings, drawing his breath through his teeth, after the
fashion of half-frozen people. Old Charley sat humped up in the
corner, sucking his cob pipe. The stove was giving forth a smell of
hot iron, and no heat, as usual. On it rested a wash-basin, wherein
some snow was melting for the morning ablutions. A candle projected a
sort of palpable yellow gloom into the grey icy morning air. I dressed
rapidly. As I slept in overcoat and cap, this was no great matter. A
pair of German socks and arctics completed my attire. Evidently I had
been put upon the floor by the hand of Oscar. For this, when Oscar
stretched his nether garment tight, in the act of washing his face, I
smote him upon the fulness thereof with a long plug of chewing tobacco.
"Aow!" he yelled, recurving like a bow and putting his hands to his
wound. Promptly we clinched and fell upon old Charley. To the floor
the three went, amid a shower of sparks from the cob pipe. "You dam
pesky kids!" said the angry voice of Charles (the timbre of that voice,
after travelling through four inches of nose, is beyond imitation).
"Get off'n me! Quit now! Stop yer blame foolin'!"
[Illustration: Get off'n me!]
Oscar and I swallowed our giggles and rolled all over Charley.
"_Well_, by Jeeroosha!" came from the bottom of the heap in the tone of
one who has reached the breaking point of astonished fury. "I'm goin'
to do some shootin' when this is over--yes, sir, I won't hold back no
more--ef you boys don't git off'n me this minit, so help me Bob! I'll
bite yer!"
This was a real danger, and we skipped off him briskly. "Why,
Charley," explained Oscar, "you see, we got so excited that we didn't
notice----"
"There's Steve now," interrupted Charley, pointing with a long crooked
forefinger to the doorway. "Well, Steve! I'm glad you come. I just
want you to see the kind of goin's on there is here." Charles cleared
his throat and stuck his thumb in his vest. "F'r instance, this
mornin', I sittin' right there in that corner, not troublin' nobody,
when up gets that splay-footed, sprawlin', lumberin' bull-calf of an
Oscar, an' that mischievious, sawed-off little monkey of a Harry, and
they goes to pullin' and tusslin', and they jes' walks up and down on
me, same's if I was a flight of steps. Now, you know, Steve, I'm a man
of sagassity an' _ex_periunce, an' I ain't goin' to stand fur no such
dograsslin'. I felt like doin' them boys ser'us damage, but they're
young, and life spreads green and promisin' befo' 'em, like a banana
tree; consequently I prefer jus' to tell you my time is handed in."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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