man?" he inquired.

"He couldn't be married and keep us, I reckon, and he's taking us with
him so nothing will happen to us while he's gone. He's really truly
Bev's uncle and mine, but he's just the same as uncle to Mat, who hasn't
anybody else," I declared, enthusiastically. Uncle Esmond was my pride,
and I meant that he should be fully appreciated.

The Yankee gazed at all three of us, his eyes resting longest on Mat's
bright face. The listlessness left his own that minute and a new light
shone on his countenance. But when he turned to my uncle the seeming
lack of all interest in living returned to his face again.

"Say," he drawled, looking down at the stubborn little merchant from his
slim six feet of altitude, "you are such a dam' fool as our friend, the
tipsy one, says, that I believe I'll go along 'cross the plains with
you, if you'll let me. I've not got a darned thing to lose out there but
a sick carcass that I'm pretty tired of looking after," he went on,
wearily. "I reckon I might as well see the fun through if I never set a
hoof on old Plymouth Rock again. My granddaddy was a minute-man at
Lexington. Say"--he paused, and his sober face turned sad--"if all the
bean-eaters who claim their grandpas were minute-men tell the truth,
there wasn't no glory in winning at Lexington, there was such a
tremendous sight of 'em. I've heard about eight million men myself make
the same claim. But my granddad was the real article in the minute-men
business. And I've always admired his grit most of any man in the world.
He was about your shape, I reckon, from his picture that old man Copley
got out. But, man! he wasn't a patchin' on your coat-sleeve. You are the
preposterous-est unlawful-est infamous-est man I ever saw. It's just
straight murder and suicide you are bent on, takin' this awful chance of