" Not
that these songs are not things of rare beauty in themselves, but
after a day on the coal pile one's lungs have been sufficiently
exercised to warrant relief. This is merely an idea of mine, and now
that everybody knows about it I guess there isn't much use in going
ahead with it.
_Aug. 8th._ "This guide i-s l-e-f-t!" shouted the P.O., and naturally
I looked around to see what had become of the poor fellow.
"Keep your head straight. Eyes to the front! Don't move! Whatcha
lookin' at?"
"I was looking for the guide that was left," says I timidly. "It seems
to me that he is always being left."
"Company dismissed," said the P.O. promptly, showing a wonderful
command of the situation under rather trying circumstances, for the
boo-hoo that went up from the men after my remark defied all
restraints of discipline.
"Say, Biltmore," says the P.O. to me a moment later, "I'm going to see
if I can't get you shipped to Siberia if you pull one of them bum
jokes again. You understand?"
"But I wasn't joking," I replied innocently.
"Aw go on, you sly dog," said he, nudging me in the ribs, and for some
strange reason he departed in high good humor, leaving me in a greatly
mystified frame of mind.
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