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The Luck of Roaring Camp and Other Tales by Bret Harte
page 43 of 522 (08%)
invertebrate back into his original position. Bill was dismissed with
the lantern to reconnoitre outside, for it was evident that, from the
helplessness of this solitary man? there must be attendants near at
hand, and we all drew around the fire. The Judge, who had regained his
authority, and had never lost his conversational amiability,--standing
before us with his back to the hearth,--charged us, as an imaginary
jury, as follows:--

"It is evident that either our distinguished friend here has reached
that condition described by Shakespeare as 'the sere and yellow leaf,'
or has suffered some premature abatement of his mental and physical
faculties. Whether he is really the Miggles"--

Here he was interrupted by "Miggles! O Miggles! Migglesy! Mig!" and,
in fact, the whole chorus of Miggles in very much the same key as it
had once before been delivered unto us.

We gazed at each other for a moment in some alarm. The Judge, in
particular, vacated his position quickly, as the voice seemed to come
directly over his shoulder. The cause, however, was soon discovered in
a large magpie who was perched upon a shelf over the fireplace, and
who immediately relapsed into a sepulchral silence, which contrasted
singularly with his previous volubility. It was, undoubtedly, his
voice which we had heard in the road, and our friend in the chair was
not responsible for the discourtesy. Yuba Bill, who reentered the room
after an unsuccessful search, was both to accept the explanation, and
still eyed the helpless sitter with suspicion. He had found a shed in
which he had put up his horses, but he came back dripping and
skeptical. "Thar ain't nobody but him within ten mile of the shanty,
and that ar d--d old skeesicks knows it."
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