You Bet Bob from Cross Crick — page 12: what you’re looking at

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a ‘pes IS 12 You Bet x» from Cross Crick, That was an extreme that I hadn’t looked fer, but as et happened he had struck a pop’lar kord in ther crowd. Thar was ther biggest cheer ov all, and away they went fer ther Gilt Fidge. I was surveyin’ ther crowd, an1d I sighted Sal Cuddyloop. Thar was somethin’ in her eyes that made me think that she thought mebby ‘a mistake had been made som’rs. i ’voided her glance all I could, but I seen her head a-bobbin’ this way and that as she gossiped with some ov ther other wimmin, and I surmised that some- thin’ was afoot. They fetched out a bottle, same as my pard had ’quested, and he took a pull at et to ther health ov ther defunct, and handed et on to me. . With ther crowd lookin’ on, I couldn’t do other than foller suit, but when I had done so I slipped ther bottle under me in ther soap box, so’s Bob couldn’t make a pig ov himself, CHAPTER XIV. THE FUNERAL SURMOUNT. Things wur gittin’ lovely. Ther goose wur hanging altitoodinous, you bet. My pard had took a seat on ther head ov ther coffin while we waited. That thar platform was onstiddy, and was like ther deck ov a vessel in crum- pled waters. Purty soon ther crowd begun ter gather oncet more, comin’ out ov ther Gilt Edge a-wipin’ their mouths on their sleeves in a satisfied manner. Thar was a general onstiddyness ov carriage amongst ’em all. Et was observable to anybody. Me and Bob wur about the only re- spectable ones thar, ‘cept ther wimmin. Wull, they gathered around oncet more, and then I guv Bob ther word that et was time fer ther funeral, * Bob?” said I. “Wull?” said he. “Ther funera.,”’ said I. “‘ What about et?” said he. “Preach et,” said I. That thar sorter sobered him. Yes, I have ter admit that he wur gittin’ how-kum-ye-so. He had been rumynatin’, ez et wur, and had clean forgot that he was master ov sarymonies. He stiffened up a bit, and looked over ther crowd, as if wonderin’ whur he was at, and ther crowd was growin’ some impatient. “Come, actin’ mayor!” galoot. “Let’s hear from ye,” said another. “Whur’s yer sarmount? ” “Talk et out.” “ Ready! ” Bob staggered to his feet, and hang me ef I didn’t expect’ him ter 80 head- long off’n ther platform. I jumped up ter steady him, but that thar platform humped up in ther middle ther minnit I did so, and almost flung me inter eternity. I sot down suddent, inter one ov ther soap boxes. My pard sot down almost as suddent, plump onto ther mesosternum ov ther defunct. Sal Cuddyloop let. out a whoop as loud as if he had sot down on her. She was in ther rear ov ther crowd, along with ther other wimmin ov ther camp. “ Disgraceful!” she cried. I agreed with her. Seas. 29 other Signa pose ter easter 4d Pant Py? ' SS shouted one “Men ov Sawbuck, pitch him off’n thar!” Sal yaupped out in tones of vine- gar. I knowed that crisus wur at hand, and I tried my best ter git up on my pins, but that thar soap box held me fast. Bob, too, seemed ter waken to ther importance ov ther ’casion. He made one or two efforts, and stood up. He tottered mightily, but he stood. *“‘Fur shame on yer!” cried Sal. “Hold yer peace, old gal,” said Bob, wavin’ his hand soothin’, “I’m all right, you bet.” “You had orter be hanged, that’s what you’d orter be!” ther Amazon fired back at him. “ I’d like ter do et fer ye.” “Hold yer peace,’”” my pard repeated at her. “‘ Yer needn’t bother yer head a@bout my hangin’, old lady. I am all right, and I’m mayor ov this yere camp, b’gosh!”’ He had got a hook fer his toes under ther edge of ther coffin, and that helped him ter brace up, “ A disgrace to ther camp!” cried Sally. “An honor to et,”’ said Bob. “I say a disgrace! and if I could git at yer I’d nip ye short in ther bud, so ter speak! ” “Stay whar ye be,” said Bob, wavin’ her scornful. ‘‘ We aire now goin’ ter have ther funeral of this dear good man what’s passed in his chips. Let ther crowd obsarve due silence.”’ He waved his hands over ’em in a fath- erly way. He looked plum gorjus, with his tall hat and black streamin’s, and I begun ter perk up a bit. I was all ther while tryin’ ter git out ov that soap box, but et held on faster’n a brother, and I couldn’t seem ter budge et wuth a cent. And Sal, she wur a-tryin’ ter work her way through, but ther crowd was thick in her direction, and ther men wur sorter ugly and wouldn’t give way to her jest on her say-so. “Friends and feller galoots,”’ said Bob, wavin’ and salaamin’ as much as he dared ter do, ‘give me yer ears fer a brief peeryud ov while, and I will show up ther vurchoos ov yer dear departed mayor, surnamed Gunsight, in a way that will do him proud,” Ther crowd perked up and cheered. “He wur a daisy mayor, as I have heard tell,” Bob continnered. “Et is a pity that ther good and beautiful have ter die young, but sech is life, and et can’t be helped. Many a better man has been hanged much younger than yer mayor hyer died. Thar is no respecter Ov per- sons when ther grim deestroyer gits on yer trail.” I was proud ov Bob, and ther crowd cheered him some more. Gittin’ interested in what he wur say- in’, I fergot ter try ter git out of that box I was stuck in. “T am no parson,” said Bob, further, “and fer that reason can’t mebby send him off strick ’cordin’ to ther gospel plan, but I’ll do ther best I kin in thet thar di- rection.” More yaups. Evén Sal was now listenin’. “Thar text ov ther ’casion will = found some’rs, no matter jist whar, ye kin look et up some other time. Et is in these hyer words: ‘The wicked cease from troublin’ and the weary is at rest.’ I take et that is a prime text fer this hyer case.” He looked around ter see how et took. Ther crowd seemed ter swoller et all right, and peisiear up to et, he contin- nered: ee weary is. at 4 or a dead sure ' ee i ‘EIS me oth = —* he af | ee Ratt 434 « y re ds : : ng . > 3 a ” Tie on mi ag! ANE, «ka ¢ , Si : ? . : d Car . ; . »* ‘ * : il * ae - “d . & 7 . "4 ‘ ‘ Lh ' y ‘@ , 4 > —s ae vine 4 ae! 1" : > yx : owe ; ; ore : * 6,5) oe P ' +} fack, and ther wicked won’t d troublin’, you kin bet. When dead he is dead, and that is t et. My pard,” wavin’ at me, | fer yer me what a noble feller Guns nsight, | wur, so I won’t dwell on that. jat, he u sum up his prospecks in t’othe gurgle et wur.” he was 1 More cheers. > IT holle “ He is purty plum sartain O-to and reception,” said Bob, furder. 's ther n no doubt beer received with o and pressed plenty warm ther } git corr got thar. And I ain’t no doubt hidn’t w in’ himself as much at home aj stances will admut, fer that wager must as you will all allow, I reckon. ‘Hand n John, ther good, ther true, thé you’ll eg ful, we mourn yer loss, but we ater one ter know’ that you aire out qa?” heartless world and in a wari a-gimt They whooped et. /—6<coffin it “Thar ain’t much more ‘tol man 1 Bob still continnered, ‘“ You 'sook m him, pards ov Sawbuck, and Cnd ter sa feels fer ye in yer serrer. We héoap box times felt fer ye in a differeniottle T « fact, hev gone gunnin’ fer ye galoot occasions; but that is now a ‘ould Sa, ther past. We now clasp hands and du this open coffin, and pledge ye t; but I Crick is still able to take keer me!” and asks no odds ov anybodyped and nothin’ of Sawbuck City. You/almecst — warmest symputhy in this yer tea The And ter yer, Gunsight John, yty! committed fer an indefinite peehe had « may ther gods have marcy on le again Bob had took off his hat wh crowd, that, and he stooped and shookbdn he sg) man by ther hand. feller ¢ The crowd whooped and yav ther t way wild ter witness, and I cléOrmder v hands. nterest: Et was a send-off good enogram anybody, I thought. But, Bob wasn’t done yet. “was th CHAPTER XV. 5 goin’ t CAPPIN’ THER CLIMAX. Would He was standin’ thar, was BoPpart wi in’ in his pockets and a-lookimnct a qd on ther floor. d, et i Et struck me thet he was ]«me befo somethin’, and et struck me at Whistle time that it was ther bottle tl put in ther soap box. har cro Also et struck me thet thet. wasn’t in ther same box that |that th: but in another one that was ji. my reach. I badn’t dropped inte et is!”’ box. White t “Cy,” said Bob, “ whur’s thlers did at? ”’ yer dc “ What bottle?” said I, uddyloc “Ther one I had,” he ménti¢ ther ca “Tt dunno,” said I. cin’ abo ““T guv et to yer,” said he, so? that ¢ ted. n’t got “Shur?” said I, OW of. “Double shur,” he growlé hyer ft “Don’t yer try ter hide et, or Rt down, yer.” 26 spoke He was a-lookin’ hard at me¢ then, save my life I couldn’t keepWell sh: from movin’ in ther direction!’ aroun ther bottle was at. of the Bob follered my sight, and sig CONcer “ Hyer it is,” he cried, makii@@y!” ye fer et. what ° He reached too fur; ther plaP®Per thir a lurch, and over he went. me git I am speakin’ figgery, you oP°P Was I suppose things wur solid she mea ther dead man. rd had Bob got ther bottle, and wk isight by body was Jaffin’ at him he got. him up, pints oncet more and. tottere front ter say further: | defunct ee Feller Bajoota,” he saluted eck, thi : ° uJ Ue “ey é os ‘comicbooks.com-