I've got it all written up,
and I'm sending a copy of it to the Chicago _Tribune_. It's an epic of
prairie life. Read it, and if you don't want it printed, why, it's me
for the swine; for it's already gone to Chicago."
Of course it seemed all right to me, but I was afraid of it, and was
thinking of pounding him up right then, when in came Elder Thorndyke to
put in the paper something about his next Sunday's services, and McGill
asked him to read the story and act as umpire. And after he had gone
over it, he grasped my hand and said that Virginia and I had not told
them half of the strange story of our living through the blizzard out on
the prairie, and that it was a great drama of resolution, resource and
bravery on my part, and seemed almost like a miracle.
"Will this hurt Virginia's feelings if it is printed?" I asked.
"No, no," he said. "It will make her fiance a hero. It will tickle her,"
said he, "half to death."
Then I told Dick he might go on with it if he would leave it just as it
was. The joke was on him, after all, for there was nothing in it about
my fight with Buck Gowdy, or of my robbing him of the team and sleigh
and harness and robes and Nick, the little dog.
The third thing that N.V. thought might have sent me down through the
greased tin horn of politics, which has ruined more good men than any
other form of gambling, was my management of the business of getting the
township set off, against the opposition of the whole Monterey Centre
Ring.
Pages:
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437