The most fun was at a
ditch which was about a foot wider than any of us could jump. Root gave
his gun to McDonald and plunged in. Then McDonald threw a gun to Root. It
hit him on the thumb-nail and dropped in the ditch out of sight. Mc.
thought it was Root's gun, and he apologized to Root for throwing it so
carelessly. Root supposed it was Mc.'s gun, and he apologized for not
catching it. We never saw men more polite in the world. Mc. started to
jump across, when a dog got between his legs, and both went in up to their
knees. You never can jump as well with a dog tangled up amongst your legs.
The dog looked at Jennings as though he wanted to swear. We waded through
the ditch and only got two feet wet. The rest of them had more than that
wet.
But about the woodcock. This is, kind reader, purely a woodcock story, and
more or less must be said about the dollar bird. But this is neither here
nor there. It was over in the Root river bottoms. Finally we got on the
woodcock ground and went to work. Talk about mosquitoes! There was no end
to them. We ought not to say that, either, because there are spots on our
person that just fit the end of a mosquito. There was an end to them. If
you never saw mosquitoes in convention, you want to go over there. And
right here we will give a recipe for keeping mosquitoes from biting.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233