"I wonder your
largeness of heart ain't ruptured your wishbones long ago!" So
saying, he retired to the stern of his raft and leaned against
the sweep-handle, apparently lost in thought. His visitors
climbed the bank and reestablished themselves on the wood-ranks.
Presently Mr. Cavendish lifted his voice and addressed Polly and
the six little Cavendishes at the other end of the raft. He
asserted that he was the only well-born man within a radius of
perhaps a hundred miles--he excepted no one. He knew who his
father and mother were, and they had been legally married--he
seemed to infer that this was not always the case. Mr. Cavendish
glanced toward the shore, then he lifted his voice again, giving
it as his opinion that he was the only Christian seen in those
parts in the last fifty years. He offered to fight any gentleman
who felt disposed to challenge this assertion. He sprang
suddenly aloft, knocked his bare heels together and uttered an
ear-piercing whoop. He subsided and gazed off into the red eye
of the sun which was slipping back of the trees. Presently he
spoke again. He offered to lick any gentleman who felt aggrieved
by his previous remarks, for fifty cents, for a drink of whisky,
for a chew of tobacco, for nothing--with one hand tied behind
him! He sprang aloft, cracked his heels together as before and
crowed insultingly; then he subsided into silence. An instant
later he appeared stung by the acutest pangs of remorse.
Pages:
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148