"Shut up," cried Wild Bill harshly. Then he added, with biting sarcasm, "I ain't surprised you're a widder-man." Toby made no attempt to disguise his laughter, and it maddened the unfortunate Sandy; and if a look could have killed, Sunny would have died grinning. However, the widower sheltered himself in the silence demanded of him until the children were lifted out of the tub and dried by their patient father. Nor did he even attempt to further interfere while their parent struggled them into their little woolen undershirts. CHAPTER XXIV --A BIBLE TALK It was with a sigh of relief that Scipio now turned to Wild Bill. Somehow, he naturally looked to him for guidance. Nor did he quite know why. "'Bout that Bible talk?" he inquired. "Guess you said they best set around in the sun." Bill nodded. "I sure did. Guess they kind o' need airin' some. 'Tain't no use in settin' in their clothes damp; they'll be gettin' sick, sure. Ther's a dandy bit o' grass right here. Best set 'em down, an' get around an' hand 'em your talk." But the worried father pushed his weedy hair off his forehead with a troubled air. "I haven't read up a deal," he apologized. The gambler promptly swept his objection aside. "That don't figger any. Once you get goin' you won't find no trouble. It's dead easy after you're started. That's the way it is with passons. They jest get a holt of a notion, an' then--why, they jest yarn." "I see," replied Scipio doubtfully, while the other men gathered round. "But," he went on more weakly still, "'bout that notion?" Bill stirred impatiently. "That's it. You start right in with the notion." "Course," cried Sandy. "The notion's easy. Why, ther's heaps o' things you ken take as a notion. Say, wa'an't ther' a yarn 'bout some blamed citizen what took to a cave, an' the checkens an' things got busy feedin' him?" "Ravens," said Sunny. "Ravens nuthin'," cried the indignant Sandy. "Checkens of the air, they was." Sunny shrugged. "That ain't no sort o' Bible talk, anyway," he protested. "You need suthin' what gives 'em a lesson. Now, ther's Nore an' his floatin' ranch--" "That wa'an't a ranch neither," contradicted Sandy promptly. "It was jest a barn." "Ark," said Toby. "Wal, ark then," admitted Sandy. He didn't mind Toby's interference. But the discussion was allowed to go no further. Bill's impatience manifested itself promptly. "Say, it don't matter a cuss whether it was an ark or a barn or a ranch. Sunny's yarn goes. Now, jest set around an' git the kids in the middle, an' you, Zip, git busy with this Nore racket."