mule-kick in the stomach, but was eating his three meals. They had a new
boy who played the guitar. He used maple-syrup an his meat, and claimed
he was from Alabama. Brock guessed things were about as usual in most
ways. The new well had caved in again. Then, in the midst of his gossip,
the thing he had wanted to say all along came out: "We're pleased about
your promotion," said he; and, blushing, shook Drake's hand again.

Warmth kindled the boy's face, and next, with a sudden severity, he said:
"You're keeping back something."

The honest Brock looked blank, then labored in his memory.

"Has the sorrel girl in Harney married you yet?" said Drake.
Brock slapped his leg, and the horses jumped at his mirth. He was mostly
grave-mannered, but when his boy superintendent joked, he rejoiced with
the same pride that he took in all of Drake's excellences.

"The boys in this country will back you up," said he, next day; and Drake
inquired: "What news from the Malheur Agency?"

"Since the new Chinaman has been cooking for them," said Brock, "they
have been peaceful as a man could wish."

"They'll approve of me, then," Drake answered. "I'm feeding 'em hyas
Christmas muck-a-muck. "

"And what may that be?" asked the schoolmaster.

"You no kumtux Chinook?" inquired Drake. "Travel with me and you'll learn
all sorts of languages. It means just a big feed. All whiskey is barred,"