ller stuck the whole _forenoon_ out, and then the
_afternoon_; and then knuckled down to it 'way into the night--yes, and
plum _midnight_!--And he buckled into the thing bright and airly _next
morning_! And-sir, fer _two long days_ and nights, a-hardly a-stoppin'
long enough to _eat_, the feller stuck it out,--and Wes a-jest a-warpin'
it to him hand-over-fist, and leavin' him furder behind, ever'
game!--till finally, to'rds the last, the feller got so blamedon worked
up and excited-like, he jes' 'peared actchully purt' nigh plum crazy and
histurical as a woman!

It was a-gittin' late into the shank of the second day, and the boys hed
jest lit a candle fer 'em to finish out one of the clost'est games the
feller'd played Wes fer some time. But Wes wuz jest as cool and ca'm as
ever, and still a-whistlin' consolin' to hisse'f-like, whilse the feller
jest 'peared wore out and ready to drap right in his tracks any minute.

"_Durn you!_" he snarled out at Wes, "hain't you never goern to move?"
And there set Wes, a-balancin' a checker-man above the board, a-studyin'
whur to set it, and a-fillin' in the time with that-air whistle.

"_Flames and flashes!_" says the feller ag'in, "will you _ever_ stop
that death-seducin' tune o' your'n long enough to move?"--And as Wes
deliber't'ly set his man down whur the feller see he'd haf to jump it
and lose two men and a king, Wes wuz a-singin', low and sad-like, as ef
all to hisse'f:

"O we'll move that man, and leave him there.--
Fer the love of B-a-r-b--bry Al-len!"

Well-sir! the feller jest jumped to his feet, upset the board, and tore
out o' the shop stark-starin' crazy--blame ef he wuzn't!--'cause some of
us putt out after him and overtook him 'way beyent the 'pike-bridge, and
hollered to him;--and he shuk his fist at us and hollered back and
says, says he: "Ef you fellers over here," says he, "'ll agree to
_muzzle_ that durn checker-player o' your'n, I'll bet fifteen hunderd
dollars to fifteen cents 'at I kin beat him 'leven games out of ever'
dozent!--But there're _no money_," he says, "'at kin hire me to play him
ag'in, on this aboundin' airth, on'y on them conditions--'cause that
durn, eternal, infernal, dad-blasted whistle o' his 'ud beat the oldest
man in Ameriky!"

DARBY AND JOAN

BY ST. JOHN HONEYWOOD

I

When Darby saw the setting sun,
He swung his scythe, and home he run,
Sat down, drank off his quart, and said,
"My work is done