e, that Aunt Mollie might have a good heart and a
cunning way with pork interiors, and it was none of my business, anyway;
but, nevertheless, she had mentioned forty long years with this amateur
saloon keeper, whereas her marriage certificate was dated but one year
previous, in figures all too shamefully legible. So what about it? I
said I mind observing the underworld from time to time; but I like
to be warned in advance, even when its denizens were such a charming,
bright-eyed winter-apple-cheeked old couple as the two we were now
leaving.

The sun was on our backs, a light breeze fanned us, the horses knew which
way they were going, and work for the day was over; so Ma Pettengill
spoke, in part, as follows:

"Oh, well, of course everyone knows about that. Simple enough! Aunt
Mollie and her first husband trekked in here forty years ago. He was a
consumptive and the first winter put him out. They had a hard time; no
neighbours to speak of, harsh weather, hard work, poor shelter, and a
dying man. Henry Mortimer happened by and stayed to help--nursed the
invalid, kept the few head of stock together, nailed up holes in the
shack, rustled grub and acted like a friend in need. At the last he
nailed a coffin together; did the rest of that job; then stayed on to
nurse Aunt Mollie, who was all in herself. After he got her to stepping
again he put in a crop for her. Then he stayed to build a barn and do
some fencing. Then he harvested the crop. And getting no wages! They was
both living off the land. Pretty soon they got fond of each other and
decided to marry. It's one of Aunt Mollie's jokes that she owed him two
years' wages and had to marry him.

"Marriage was easier said than done. No preacher, or even a justice of
the peace, was within ninety miles, which meant a four days' trip over
the roads of that day, and four days back, providing high water or some
other calamity didn't make it a month; and no one to leave on the place,
which meant there wouldn't be a head of stock left when they got back,
what with Indians and rustlers. Uncle Henry will tell you how it seemed
too bad that just one of 'em wouldn't make the trip down and have the
ceremony done, leaving the other to protect the place.

"Then along comes a horse trader, who stops over to rest his stock,
and learns their trouble. He tells 'em to quit their worry; that he's a
notary public and can perform a marriage as good as any Baptist preacher
they ever saw. I nev