The boy took his pistol with solemnity." No," he said. "Guess I can't do
that." He fired, and the glass splintered into shapelessness. "Told you I
couldn't miss as close as you did," said he.

"You are a darling," said Mr. Vogel. "Gif me dat lofely weapon."

A fortunate store of bottles lay, leaned, or stood about in the white
snow of Nampa, and Mr. Vogel began at them.

"May I ask if anything is the matter?" inquired a mild voice from the
stage.

"Stick that lily head in-doors," shouted Vogel; and the face and
eye-glasses withdrew again into the stage." The school-teacher he will be
beautifool virtuous company for you at Malheur Agency," continued Vogel,
shooting again; and presently the large old German destroyed a bottle
with a crashing smack. "Ah!" said he, in unison with the smack. "Ah-ha!
No von shall say der old Max lose his gr-rip. I shoot it efry time now,
but the train she whistle. I hear her."

The boy affected to listen earnestly.

"Bah! I tell you I hear de whistle coming."

"Did you say there was a whistle?" ventured the occupant of the stage.
The snow shone white on his glasses as he peered out.

"Nobody whistle for you," returned the robust Vogel. "You listen to me,"
he continued to the boy. "You are offle yoong. But I watch you plenty