“‘Zeke,’ says William, hangin’ on to my neck, ’did I hear somethin’, or is it that cussed green ink workin’?’

“‘I thought I observed a sound,’ says I; ’and whatever it was lit yonder.  Let’s go see.

“William hadn’t intended to go and see at all.  In fact, I dragged him by the hair and belt the hull distance—­not that I was exactly afraid, but nothin’ is so lonesome when you have company.

“There was a hole in a snowbank where whatever it was went in.  I started to paw down, but William was for bunchin’ it.

“‘I tell you, let it be and hump yourself out’n here,’ says he.  ’It’s after me because I blew up the mill; it’s the devil, that’s what it is.’

“‘Is it?’ says I.  ’Well, let’s have a look at him.  My veins is full of cream de menthy, and I’ll knock his horns off’n him if he gives me any lip.’

“Just then the snowbank heaved up.  It wasn’t no devil—­that is, not exactly.  It was a lady.  I’d a bet on it if I’d had time to think.  I might have known there was no place on top of this footstool where E. G. W. Scraggs could rest his weary feet without some female happenin’ in the same spot at the same time.  I should have took William’s advice, but it was now too late.

“We stood around kinder awk’ard, with her brushin’ snow from herself, till I says, ‘Well, good-evenin’, ma’am.’

“First off she says good-evenin’, too, out of surprise.  Then she begun to talk altogether different.  She described William and me by sections, goin’ into particulars, and nobuddy’d loaned us money on her recommend.  I was used to this at home, so I spoke up nice and silent in our defense.  There ain’t quite so much noise when only one is talkin.’

“Finally, when her breath give out, William says very humble, ‘Would you mind informin’ us, ma’am, how you come to be in these parts just now?’

“She explained fully that, in answer to an advertisement in the paper, she was slidin’ over to Squaw Creek.  The advertisement called for a wife for a farmer, to be forty years old, or thereabouts, able to cook, plow, do washing and light blacksmith’s work, and to have a capital of five hundred dollars to invest in the concern.

“‘An’ now,’ says she, beginning to weep, ’I’d camped in that mill, an’ I was only for steppin’ out to git a bit of a stick to cook me soopper, an’ I was on me way back, when a-r-rur-BOOMP! it ses, an’ where’s the five hoondred dollars that I left there, I dunno?  Agghh woosha-woosha the day, ye divils, ye!  An’ me hoopled t’rough the air like a ol’ hat—­bad cess to yer ugly faces!  The cuss o’ Crom’ll lie heavy on ye for mistreatin’ a poor, lone widdy woman!’

“‘Well, ma’am,’ says I, ’I wouldn’t take the loss of the money to heart.  When the gentleman sees your face he won’t care.’  Usually, you can kinder edge around the rough places with that game of talk.  But it didn’t go here.