PAINTED ROCK
to speak to you on a sad p'int, and one I'd rather perish miserable in a blizzard on the perairie than mention," said George.
"Jerusalem, what's wrong with the man?" inquired Bill, with sudden testiness. "Here am I as happy as a chipmunk, and he kems out like a corp for sadness, and spiles the very momin' air. What is it, George?"
George shook his head.
"Let us take a little walk, and let me beg you to be ca'm, while I reelates the suspicious events to which I was a sad and horrified witness yesterday," replied George.
"What events?" roared Bill furiously.
"Events that are now as clear as day in my mind," said George, "horrid events, but nat'ral enough, for innocence is innocence wherever you find it, and wicked men are pisin wherever seen."
Bill's face turned crimson, and his white hair stood on end.
"Brother George," he remarked in a strangled whistle, "if you don't want me to apoplex sudden you'll be jest a trifle clearer and not so long-winded. What's it
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