File:St. Nicholas (serial) (1873) (14783102405).jpg

Identifier: stnicholasserial371dodg (find matches)
Title: St. Nicholas (serial)
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: (New York : Scribner & Co.)
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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ble-men tolook after his horse as well as my own, Joe and Iimmediately followed Jose. It was worth something to see Jose wait onthat Indian boy, while the white man, still cap-tive as to his legs, was placed at another tableand allowed to shift for himself, as best he couldfrom whatever the cook deigned to put beforehim. After the man had breakfasted—and a veryslight breakfast he made of it —Father told me totake off his bonds and let him go free. I did so,and he left the camp without a word. Father, however, had had a moments con-versation with him, and on my venturing toinquire why he had let the man go, he explained: He was hired by the Stanislau Company to dothe work that he did —or tried to do. He failed,ignominiously and conspicuously —thanks to ourfaithful Joe. He is an intelligent man. The re-membrance that he will always carry with him ofthis escapade will be punishment enough. Later on, several of the engineers tried towrest from Joe some of the details of his clever
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THE HORSES BROKE INTO A GALLOP. KLAMATH JOES CAPTIVE 69 exploit. But Joe was tired and inclined to sleepafter his exertions —particularly, I think, afterthose at the breakfast-table—and it was not un-til Father questioned him that he could bring him-self to explain: How did I know he had dat little red book?Me, I saw him take it. I was layin under datbush by the door, watchin some blue jay wat gota nest there, an I see you—to Father—take offyo coat an hang it up by the door while yogo to was yo face at the bench. Yo lookroun an there aint no soap. Yo step insidethe cabin to git him, an then, jes quick, this mansteps roun corner an puts his han in yo pocketand grabs dat little red book, quick, all beforeyo come out with dat soap. I not know yolike him, dat book so well, till I hear yo talkinat Jack yestdy. I think dat man take it forjoke —silly joke, like white mans make at eachother—but wen I hear yo talk I know wat forhe steal it; I knew he would be hurry down thetrail fo

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