Boy Scouts of America -- Juvenile fiction; Rocky Mountains -- Juvenile fiction
Uncle Jeb acted as spokesman and explained as quickly as possible of
Westy’s discovery in the sky. He omitted, whether intentionally or not
the two boys wondered, mentioning about the ghost.
“Yuh all lissen ter me, ’n I’ll tell yer somethin’, fer it don’t make a
bit o’ difference now, becuz it’s gone by this time anyhow.”
“Gone?” they all asked in a chorus.
“Shure ez yure a-sittin’ thar all o’ ye. My money ’s gone every pesky
cent. ’N if I hed my way, I’d like ter see thet rascally scoundrel hang
fer it. I’d never believed it o’ him!”
“Who?” they all asked.
“Ollie!”
CHAPTER XXXIX—THE MAN WITHOUT A SOUL
Uncle Jeb started, they all started in fact, but Ol’ Pop seemed
oblivious of their evident surprise. Taking a fresh hold with his elbow
he continued on, as though his recent statement was nothing
extraordinary.
“Ter begin with,” he said, “I noticed as how Ollie took ter actin’
peculiar-like fer quite a spell back. He kept a-askin’ me if I wuz
makin’ much money ’n if I saved much afore I run the Inn. I’d ketch him
every so often lookin’ at me funny, but I didn’ let myself think much
’bout it. Then, I wuz taken with thet pesky red fever or whatever durn
name they give it. Wa-al, when he hears the Doctor say I wuz gittin’
better ’n cud git out in a few days, I caught him a-lookin’ at me right
nasty. After he gits supper he sits aroun’ agin eyein’ me, ’n it makes
me feel so creepy, I go up ter my room ter git clean away frum him. I’m
a-sittin’ in a rockin’ chair a-thinkin’ ’bout it and wonderin’ what in
Sam Hill’s got in ter him. Thar I sit, rockin’ back ’n forth by the
winder when I happens ter hear the door creak. I turn quick and the door
is openin’ slowly, until finally it’s wide-open. Thar in the doorway
stands Ollie, with thet silly grin what he’s hed on him lately. Not only
hez he the grin, but also a gun, which he’s a-pointin’ at me, and a
rope.
“Fer the minit I think he’s gone plumb crazy, but then I know as how I’m
mistakin’ in thet, fer when he starts ter talk, it wuz as natcherell as
the little bit he ever did talk.
“‘Ol’ Pop Burrows,’ sez Ollie, sounding like the cemetery bell the day
thet Sheriff Biggs wuz popped off by Sly Pete Woozle, ‘I’m a-goin’ ter
make my get away to-night!’
“‘Go ahead!’ I sez, ‘the better the sooner!’ I wuz thet chilly frum
hearin’ the spooky voice on him, I gits all rattled as ter what I wuz
talkin’.
“‘I intend to!’ he sez ag’in, jes’ like a funeral march. ‘But not afore
yer tells me whar yer keeps yer swag!’
“‘Sufferin’ merskeeters!’ I sez. ‘What’s thet?’
“‘Yer dough,’ he answers.
“I tells him then, thet it wud hev ter be over my carcass, and he sez
jes’ like one o’ them undertakers, thet over my carcass it would be, fer
he intended sending me West.
“‘Feller,’ I sez, tryin’ ter be pleasin’ ’n thinkin’ it may calm his
crazy head, ‘what foolish talk ’bout sendin’ me West. Why, I hain’t
never been no place else all my life, ’n I got no call ter go now.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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