Big Jack Small [pp. 446-463]

BIG _7A CK SMA~LL.
of lime. Hold on till we git across the
valley an' git a-goin' up the next mountain,'n I'll show yer some good quartz.
Some bully float-rock over thar, but
nobody haint found no mine yit-never will, I reckon; I've hunted fer the
derned thing twenty times. Yere, Gov,
git a bucket o' water. Parson, d'ye
feel wolfish?" added Mr. Small, after
he had his fire lighted and was proceeding culinarily.
"Wolfish! " exclaimed Mr. Sighal,
with some surprise.
"Yes- hungry," explained Jack, as
he sawed with a dull knife at the tough
rind of a side of bacon, cutting down one
fat slice after the other upon the lid of
the grub-box near the fire.
"Not unusually so."
"Hain't et nothin' sence mornin', hey
ye?"
"No; not since early morning."
"Must do better'n that!" said Jack,
putting the frying-pan upon the fire.
"I usually eat but little, for fear of
eating too much."
"Well, s'pose yer heave away them
rocks, an' run this fryin'-pan -jest fer
appertite. Nothin' like facin' an inemy, ef yer want to git over bein' afraid
of him! "
Mr. Sighal immediately complied, and,
squatting by the fire, poised the fryingpan upon the uneven heap of burning
sticks, in his first lesson at camp-life.
"I don't allow yer kin eat much this
evenin', as we've only traveled half a
day, but to - morrer we've got to cross
the valley through the alkali-dust, an'
make a long drive. Git a lot o' that alkali into ye, an' you'll hanker after fat
bacon!"
"Ah?" said Mr. Sighal, carefully balancing the pan on the fire.
"Yes, sir"-with great emphasis on
the sir. "Alkali an' fat bacon goes together like a match yoke o' leaders.
Does thar seem to be any coals a-makin' in that fire, Parson?"
"The wood seems to burn; I infer
there will be coals."
"Inferrin' won't do, Parson! We've
got to hey'em,'cause I must bake this
bread after supper, fer to-morrer. A1lus keep one bakin' ahead," ejaculated
Mr. Small, as he finished kneading bread
in the pan, and quickly grasped the axe,
proceeding to break up some more wood.
"Yer see, Parson, a bull-puncher hes to
be up to a little of every sort o' work,
in the mountains. Gov, you look out
fer that coffee-pot, while I put this wood
on the fire. Drink coffee, Parson? No?
Well, then, make yer some tea in an
empty oyster-can-hain't got only one
pot fer tea an' coffee."
"No, Mr. Small, do not make any
trouble for me, in that way. I drink
water at the evening meal."
"All right, then; this hash is ready
fet bizness! "
The Reverend Mr. Sighal, sitting
cross -legged on the ground, received
the tin plate and rusty steel knife and
fork into his lap from the hand of Mr.
Small, and then Mr. Small sat down
cross-legged opposite him, with the hard
loaf of yellow yeast -powder bread, and
the sizzling frying-pan, between them,
surrounded by small cotton sacks, containing respectively salt, pepper, and
sugar.
"Now, Parson," said Mr. Small,
"pitch in!"
"One moment, Mr. Small," said the
parson, removing the hat from his own
head, "will you not permit me to ask
the blessing of God upon this frugal repast?"
"Certainly!" assented Mr. Small,
snatching off his hat, and slapping it on
the ground beside him. Then happening to note quickly the Indian sitting
listlessly on the other side of the fire,
he said: "Yere, you Injin, take off yer
hat; quick."
"Yash-heap take'em off," said the
obeying Indian.
[MAY,
452