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.
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