the clay into a rigid stonelike sheath
inside the logs and presently the sticks were burned away. The women had
cooked the meats by an open fire and spread the dinner on a table of
rough boards resting on poles set in crotches. At noon one of them
sounded a conch shell. Then with shouts of joy the men hurried to the
fireside and for a moment there was a great spluttering over the wash
basins. Before they ate every man except Abe and Samson "took a pull at
the jug--long or short"--to quote a phrase of the time.

It was a cheerful company that sat down upon the grass around the table
with loaded plates. Their food had its extra seasoning of merry jests
and loud laughter. Sarah was a little shocked at the forthright
directness of their eating, no knives or forks or napkins being needed
in that process. Having eaten, washed and packed away their dishes the
women went home at two. Before they had gone Samson's ears caught a
thunder of horses' feet in the distance. Looking in its direction he saw
a cloud of dust in the road and a band of horsemen riding toward them at
full speed. Abe came to him and said:

"I see the boys from Clary's Grove are coming. If they get mean let me
deal with 'em. It's my responsibility. I wouldn't wonder if they had
some of Offut's whisky with them."

The boys arrived in a cloud of dust and a chorus of Indian whoops and
dismounted and hobbled their horses. They came toward the workers, led
by burly Jack Armstrong, a stalwart, hard-faced blacksmith of about
twenty-two with broad, heavy shoulders, whose name has gone into
history. They had been drinking some but no one of them was in the least
degree off his balance. They scuffled around the jug for a moment in
perfect good nature and then Abe and Mrs. Waddell provided them with the
best remnants of the dinner. They were rather noisy. Soon they went up
on the roof to help with the rafters and the clapboarding. They worked
well a few minutes and suddenly they came scrambling down for another
pull at the jug. They were out for a spree and Abe knew it and knew
further that they had reached the limit of discretion.

"Boys, there are ladies here and we've got to be careful," he said. "Did
I ever tell you what Uncle Jerry Holman said of his bull calf? He said
the calf was such a _suckcess_ that he didn't leave any milk for the
family and that while the calf was growin' fat the children was growin'
poor. In my opinion you're about fat enough for the pres