His Honor, the mayor, asked no
questions when the hospital deaths went unreported, he felt that these
frequent midnight pilgrimages were no concern of his.

The undertaker peered into the shallow grave.

"This hole looks like a chicken had been dustin' itself."

"You'd think it was deep enough if you was diggin' in these rocks and
drawin' only $5.00 for it," was the tart reply. "I told you I wouldn't
dig but three feet for that money. 'Tain't like diggin' in nice, easy
Nebrasky soil. Gimme $10 a grave an' I'll dig 'em regalation depth."

"Quit jawin' and take holt of this here box."

"Is he heavy?"

"Never heard of any of 'em comin' out of there fat. Slide the strap
under your end."

"He's heavier than most," grunted the grave-digger. "He couldn't a been
in there long."

Lutz laughed.

"They made a quick job of this one. Steady now--let her slide."

The grave-digger was sleepy and cross and careless. The strap slipped
through his fingers and the box fell with a heavy thud. It fell upon its
side and the lid came off.

"My God!" The grave-digger was staring into the hole with all his
bulging eyes.

"You fool! You clumsy, blunderin' fool!"

The epithet passed unheard, for the grave-digger was looking at the
stark body rolled in a soiled blanket now lying face downward in the
dirt of the grave.

"Jump in there and put him back!" cried Lutz excitedly.

The grave-digger backed off and shook his head emphatically.

"Not _me_!"

"What are you here for--you?"

"Not for jobs like this; this sure don't look right to me."

"What do I care how it looks to you! Get busy and help me roll him back
and be quick about it!"

"I ain't paid for no such crooked work as this."

"Crooked?"

"I've heard it straight that every pauper had a suit o' clothes, a
coffin, a six-foot grave, and a headboard comin' to him from the County.
That's the law."

"Look here, Lem, use a little sense. Now what's the use spendin' County
money on these paupers from God knows where? That's a good blanket."

"Oh, yes, that's a peach of a blanket. Kind of a shame to waste such a
good blanket, ain't it? Why don't you take it off him? He'll never tell.
But say, are you sure the County don't pay for that suit of clothes and
coffin and six feet of diggin' he didn't git?"

"Are you goin' to lend a hand here or not?"

"Not." The grave-digger picked up his shovel and started off looking
like a gnome in the moonlight under his high-crowned