raise provisions and whiskey outer his water rights on the creek! Fact,
sir,--had it all written down lawyer-like on paper. Rawlett didn't
exactly see it in that light, and told him so. Then he up with the
desp'rit dodge and began to work that. Said if he had to starve in a
swamp like a dog he might as well kill himself at once, and would too
if he could afford the weppins. Johnson said it was not a bad idea, and
offered to lend him his revolver; Bilson handed up his shot-gun, and
left it alongside of him, and turned his head away considerate-like and
thoughtful while Rawlett handed him a box of rat pizon over the counter,
in case he preferred suthin' more quiet. Well, what did 'Lige do?
Nothin'! Smiled kinder sickly, looked sorter wild, and shut up. He
didn't suicide much. No, sir! He didn't kill himself,--not he. Why, old
Bixby--and he's a deacon in good standin'--allowed, in 'Lige's hearin'
and for 'Lige's benefit, that self-destruction was better nor bad
example, and proved it by Scripture too. And yet 'Lige did nothin'!
Desp'rit! He's only desp'rit to laze around and fish all day off a log
in the tules, and soak up with whiskey, until, betwixt fever an' ague
and the jumps, he kinder shakes hisself free o' responsibility."

A long silence followed; it was somehow felt that the subject was
incongruously exciting; Billings allowed himself to lapse again behind
the back of his chair. Meantime it had grown so dark that the dull glow
of the stove was beginning to outline a faint halo on the ceiling even
while it plunged the further lines of shelves behind the counter into
greater obscurity.

"Time to light up, Harkutt, ain't it?" said Wingate, tentatively.

"Well, I was reckoning ez it's such a wild night there wouldn't be any
use keepin' open, and when you fellows left I'd just shut up for good