ounging
position against the bar and said, "I reckon not, ez far ez I know."

"And that old bloat of a second cousin--that crimson beak--what kem
down yesterday,--he ain't bin hangin' round here today for his reg'lar
pizon?"

"No," said the barkeeper thoughtfully, "I reckon Spindler's got him
locked up, and is settin' on him to keep him sober till after Christmas,
and prevent you boys gettin' at him."

"He'll have the jimjams before that," returned the first speaker; "and
how about that dead beat of a half-nephew who borrowed twenty dollars of
Yuba Bill on the way down, and then wanted to get off at Shootersvilie,
but Bill wouldn't let him, and scooted him down to Spindler's and
collected the money from Spindler himself afore he'd give him up?"

"He's up thar with the rest of the menagerie," said the barkeeper, "but
I reckon that Mrs. Price hez bin feedin' him up. And ye know the old
woman--that fifty-fifth cousin by marriage--whom Joe Chandler swears he
remembers ez an old cook for a Chinese restaurant in Stockton,--darn my
skin ef that Mrs. Price hasn't rigged her out in some fancy duds of her
own, and made her look quite decent."

A deep groan here broke from Uncle Jim Starbuck.

"Didn't I tell ye?" he said, turning appealingly to the others. "It's
that darned widow that's at the bottom of it all! She first put Spindler
up to givin' the party, and now, darn my skin, ef she ain't goin to fix
up these ragamuffins and drill 'em so we can't get any fun outer 'em
after all! And it's bein' a woman that's bossin' the job, and not
Spindler, we've got to draw things mighty fine and not cut up too rough,
or some of the boys will kick."

"You bet," said a surly but decided voice in the crowd.

"And," said another voice, "Mrs. Price didn't live in 'Bleeding Kansas'
for nothing."

"Wot's the programme you've settled on, Uncle Jim?" said the barkeeper
lightly, to check what seemed to promise a dangerous discussion.

"Well," said Starbuck, "we kalkilate to gather early Christmas night in
Hooper's Hollow and rig ourselves up Injun fashion, and then start for
Spindler's with pitch-pine torches, and have a 'torchlight dance' around
the house; them who does the dancin' and yellin' outside takin' their
turn at goin' in and hevin' refreshment. Jake Cooledge, of Boston, sez
if anybody objects to it, we've only got to say we're 'Mummers of the
Olden Times,' sabe? Then, later, we'll have 'Them Sabbath Evening Bells'
performed on