me and Jack laughed so hard we couldn't help him a bit, Spot was pretty mad too, for he grabbed Billy's leg in his teeth and tore a big piece out of them – out of Billy's pajamas I mean.
Then Billy let go of the chain, and Spot climbed out of the water on to the bank and tried to run off with the trap. Billy waded ashore too, and we just laid down on the ground and hollered like real wild Indians. Billy he said it wasn't any laughing matter and to come and help him get Spot out of the trap.
Say, Dad, did you ever try to open a big steel trap – especially one with a spotted dog in it? Spot wouldn't let us come near him. Billy coaxed and coaxed, but, no siree, he wouldn't do anything but just snap at us like a sure enough wild cat. Meantime Spot he howls something dreadful.
Then Jack he remembers how once in a storybook a man caught a mad dog, so he runs to the bed and gets a blanket, and while Billy and me talks nice to Spot from in front, Jack he sneaks up behind and throws it over him. Then Jack grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around the dog's head so he couldn't bite, and we both stood on the trap spring and managed to get it open wide enough so Billy got his foot out (Spot's foot I mean, not Billy's).
Has he come home yet? 'Cause he's gone from here. My goodness, but camping out's sure fun.
P. S. Billy says he don't care anyhow, for Spot had no right to chew the rope in two and get loose so as to get into the trap.
P. S. The wasps are thick here. One stung Jack on the neck and he hollered awful over it. I made a mud poultice for it like you told me once you used to do on the plains.
Dear Pa: It rained last night real hard. We didn't get much wet, and anyhow Jack says camping out wouldn't be any fun unless you slept in wet blankets once, like the cowboys and soldiers do on the plains. Billy says his Uncle John says a wet bed is a warm bed, but I don't believe him, for we 'most froze.
Pa, what makes the red come out of the quilts where they get rained on? Jack says we belong to the improved order of Red Men now, and if my face looks as funny as his does, with red streaks all acrost it, I'd be afraid to go home.
You'd ought to see the fun we had drownding out a chipmonk what ran into a hole in the ground. We packed the water in our hats from the creek. Bimeby, the chipmonk, came out, and I ran after him. He was so wet he couldn't run fast and I made a grab at him and caught him – no, he caught me for he bit my finger horrible hard and I couldn't let go, or else he wouldn't, I'm not sure which.
Billy and Jack laughed at me as if it was a good joke, but I couldn't see where it was so very funny.
Do chipmonks have hydryfoby? Billy says he bets they do.
P. S. Jack dropped the box of matches out of his shirt pocket into the creek, and I had to go to a house about a mile away to get some more.
P. S. You can't make a fire with two sticks of wood, for we tried it for an hour. All we got was blisters on our hands. The Indians must of had lots of patience if they ever did it.
Dear Daddy: If the burro comes home please shut him up in the lot. He's gone somewhere and we can't find him. Anyhow it don't make much difference, for Jack says he'd rather carry his share of the stuff on his back than bother with a pack burro again. There ain't going to be much grub to take back anyhow. The man down the creek gave us some more bacon for what the hogs ate up and said we were welcome to all the green corn we wanted from his field. We had just corn for supper last night and breakfast today. The salt all got wet in the rain and melted up, so we didn't have any, but Billy says lots of times on the plains people didn't have any salt for weeks at a time. I'll bet they didn't have nothing but green corn to eat, though.
Please tell mother that I burned a hole in one of my shoes trying to dry them out by the campfire. Also about six inches off the bottom of one leg of my pajamas. They were hanging on a stick by the fire drying while we made the bed. Billy said he smelt cloth a-burning, but we never saw where it was till the harm was done.
If mother won't mind I'm sure I won't, for Billy says no soldier or cowboy ever wore pajamas. It was my old pair of shoes anyhow, and they always hurt my heel when I walked, so they don't matter either.
Camping out's sure lots of fun.
P. S. The man down the creek says he's going to town pretty soon and if we want to ride in with him we can. I wonder what made him think of it.
P. S. A wasp stung me on the lip yesterday. He lit on an ear of corn just as I went to bite. It don't hurt at all, leastways I'd be ashamed if I made as much fuss about it as Jack did when one bit him. Besides a wasp bite on the lip's lots worser than one on the neck – that's what the man down the creek says.
Dear Daddy: Yesterday we sure had a great time playing "Pirates" without any shirts on – for Billy says pirates always dress that way – just their trousers on, "naked to the waist," he says.
I was the pirate chief, and Billy was my crew. Jack he was the captain of the vessel and stood on the log to defend the gangway of his ship.
We had cutlasses made out of lath and when we told Jack to surrender he called us cowardly pirates and dared us to step on board his ship.
Then we went for him and was having a great old time when Jack's foot slipped and he fell off the log into the creek. He got mad at me and Billy, 'cause we laughed at him when he bumped his head on the log as he went down.
I wisht we could camp out here forever.
P. S. What's good for a burnt finger where you burnt it trying to pick the coffee pot off the fire to keep it from boiling over?
Dear Dad: If there's a funny smell to this letter it's on account of the skunk. The man down the creek says if we bury our clothes in the ground for two or three days the smell will all come off.
We are coming home tomorrow in his wagon. We're going to leave the bed clothes hanging in a tree. The man said he wouldn't take them home if he was us. Anyhow it don't matter much for a spark blew onto the bed one day and burnt a hole right through them all clear down to the ground.
We put it out when we smelt it. It didn't hurt very much, for we changed the blankets 'round so the holes didn't all come together, and let in the cold, and it was all right.
Please kiss Mother for me and tell her most of the red's come off my face and arms.
Billy cried last night 'cause he was homesick and wanted his Ma. He's a sissy girl, Billy is. I'll sure be glad to see you and Ma, but I wouldn't cry about it. Please kiss Ma for me.
P. S. Say, Pa, do skunks out on the plains look like little kittens? The one we caught sure did.
POPGUN PLAYS SANTA CLAUS
"Salute yer pardners, let her go,
Balance all an' do-se-do.
Swing yer gal, then run away,
Right,
