How Bill Was Mistaken [pp. 357-364]

H8OW BILL WAS MISTAKEN.
long sandy eyebrows, like a hairy rat terrier dog's -and they twinkle like
specks of ice among dry grass in a sunshiny winter morning. And that young
feller he never says nothin' to speak of
more'n the old one; but he'll look at
you, like two brand-new gimlets, while
you're talkin'; and he'll stand all nervey-like, with smiles twitchin' round his
mouth, a-waitin' for somethin' to laugh
at."
"I don't see anything out of the way
in what you tell me about these men."
"You don't? Well, you haven't seen
'em yet. Why, I told the young one
that old story about the broken winder,
and I thought first he'd bust, and then
wear himself out, a-laughin'."
"I don't remember any story about a
broken window. What was it?"
"Don't you know about the man who
was ridin' along the road, passin' a logcabin where was a six-pane winder-sash
with all the glass broke out, and the old
woman and four children lookin' out of
five frames in the sash, and the man said
to the old woman,'How-de-do, ma'am?
Have you had a funeral in your family
lately?''No, sir. Why do you ax?'
says the old woman; and then the man
said,'I see one sash - frame's got no
head in it, and I thought t'other head
might be dead!' But that man was on
a good horse, and saved his skelp."
"To laugh at that sort of a story is
not good evidence of insanity," said I
to my "pard," as we spurred off into a
short lope.
I make note here of a fact-namely,
after a joke on horseback, an acceleration of gait follows. I do not, however,
wish to infer that the animals enter into
the enjoyment. In riding through the
sage, the horses are compelled by the
bunches of brush to perform a continual zigzag journey, which interferes with
any pace beyond a walk or jog-trot; so
that we were soon forced to give up our
gayety of motion, and resume the slower
progress, which se4med also to call for
a resumption of conversation:
"From what you tell me, Bill, about
those queer fellows, I feel inclined to
ride back and see the men and the mine.
What do you say?"
"Not a bit o' use. They won't let
you down into the mine-ashamed of it,
I reckon-and you won't think of stayin' there all night."
"Why can't we stay there all night?
We've got our own grub and bed."
"0, well, you could stay up there;
but you wouldn't."
"I don't see why."
"You don't want to be et up with
m'skeeters, if you sleep out of doors,
and you can't sleep in them fellers' cabin-there aint room. They live in a
hole in the hill-side, and the hole is so
small that one of'em has to go to bed
or go out while t'other one puts on his
coat, or pulls on his boots. I've been
up there. Them little popplewood groves
is fuller of m'skeeters than a Mississippi swamp-bottom; and, in July, a Nevada mountain-m'skeeter is savager'n
h-1!-cuts like a lancet, and sucks like
a leech."
"Well, well, William, if you've been
there, of course I'll not insist; but if we
live to come back this way, I'll ride up
and see the boys."
"All right! I'm on it, if you-are in
airnest about wantin' to go now," said
Bill, riding forward to turn the packmule.
"No, no; never mind. Come back,'
Bill. Let the mule go ahead as he is,"
said I.
"Well," said Bill, dropping into line
again, "jist as you like. I'm none of
yer growlers that wants it all his own
way, and can't humor a pard's curiosity.
That's not me. I can give and take,
and allus do-on a trip like this."
Hereupon William proceeded to tell
me, as we rode along, of the various
prospecting trips he had been on in the
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