And I made up my mind that if the missionary
were the right sort his coming might not be a bad thing for the Old
Timer and perhaps for more than him.
CHAPTER IV
THE PILOT'S MEASURE
It was Hi Kendal that announced the arrival of the missionary. I was
standing at the door of my school, watching the children ride off
home on their ponies, when Hi came loping along on his bronco in the
loose-jointed cowboy style.
"Well," he drawled out, bringing his bronco to a dead stop in a single
bound, "he's lit."
"Lit? Where? What?" said I, looking round for an eagle or some other
flying thing.
"Your blanked Sky Pilot, and he's a beauty, a pretty kid--looks too
tender for this climate. Better not let him out on the range." Hi was
quite disgusted, evidently.
"What's the matter with him, Hi?"
"Why, HE ain't no parson! I don't go much on parsons, but when I calls
for one I don't want no bantam chicken. No, sirree, horse! I don't want
no blankety-blank, pink-and-white complected nursery kid foolin' round
my graveyard. If you're goin' to bring along a parson, why bring him
with his eye-teeth cut and his tail feathers on."
That Hi was deeply disappointed was quite clear from the selection of
the profanity with which he adorned this lengthy address. It was
never the extent of his profanity, but the choice, that indicated Hi's
interest in any subject.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35