"It's a great misfortune to be superstishyous," said Mr. Scraggs.
"Such a thing would never have troubled me if I hadn't a-learnt
from experience that facts carried out the idee. Now, you take
that number thirteen. There's reason for believin' it's unlucky.
One reason is, when things is all walkin' backwards folks says
they're at sixes and sevens. Well, six and seven makes thirteen,
so there you are."

"I ain't much more than arrived," replied Red, rubbing his head
dubiously.

"I'm comin' fast," said Charley; "but don't wait for me, Zeke."

"Well, that's only speculation, anyhow," continued Mr. Scraggs
indulgently; "and speculation has made heaps of trouble for piles
of people if I'm to believe what I read, which I don't. But here's
cold facts. I was born on the thirteenth of April, at a time when
me and the country was both younger than we are now. Hadn't been
for that I'd dodged considerable mishaps. It was on the thirteenth
of October last, in the early mornin', that I mistook that
rattlesnake for a chunk of wood and heaved him in the stove."

"Well, where's the bad luck in that?" asked Charley.

"Inquire of the snake," said Mr. Scraggs; "besides, he smelt awful.
I don't seem to be able to bring back any mornin' I cared less for
breakfast than that one. Suppose you was a happy rattlesnake,
Charley, with a large and promisin' fambly; suppose, now, on a
frosty thirteenth of October you crawled under the cook-stove to