"'Boggs,' he says; 's'pose you-all sets in an' plays my hand a minute with that infant child, while I goes over an' adjourns them frivolities in the dance-hall.It looks like this yere camp is speshul toomultuous to-night.'
"Boggs goes in with the infant, an' Jack proceeds to the baile house an' states the case.
"'I don't want to onsettle the reg'lar programme,' says Jack, 'but this yere young-one I'm responsible for, gets that engaged in the sounds of these yere revels, it don't look like he's goin' to sleep none.So if you-alls will call the last waltz, an' wind her up for to-night, it'll shorely be a he'p.The kid's mother'll be yere by sun-up; which her advent that a-way alters the play all 'round, an'
matters then goes back to old lines.'
"'Enough said,' says Jim Hamilton, who runs the dance-hall.'You can gamble this temple of mirth ain't layin' down on what's right, an'
tonight's shindig closes right yere.All promenade to the bar.We takes a drink on the house, quits, an' calls it a day.'
"Then Jack comes back, a heap grave with his cares, an' relieves Boggs; who's on watch, straddled of a chair, a-eyein' of the infant, who, a-settin' up ag'in a goose-ha'r piller, is likewise a-eyein' of Boggs.
"'He's a 'way up good infant, Jack,' says Boggs, givin' up his seat.
"'You can bet your life he's a good infant,' says Jack; 'but it shore looks like he don't aim to turn in an' slumber none.Mebby the goat's milk is too invigeratin' for 'him, an' keeps him awake that a-way.'
"About another hour goes by, an' out comes Jack into the Red Light ag'in.
"'I ain't aimin' to disturb you-alls none,' he says, 'but, gents, if you-alls could close these games yere, an' shet up the store, I'll take it as a personal favor.He can hear the click of the chips, an'
it's too many for him.Don't go away; jest close up an' sorter camp 'round quiet.'
"Which we-alls does as Jack says; closes the games, an' then sets 'round in our chairs an' keeps quiet, a-waitin' for the infant to turn in.A half-hour later Jack appears ag'in.
"'It ain't no use, gents,' he says, goin' back of the bar an'
gettin' a big drink; 'that child is onto us.He won't have it.You can gamble, he's fixed it up with himse'f that he ain't goin' to sleep none to-night.I allows it's 'cause he's among rank strangers, an' he figgers it's a good safe play to lookout his game for himse'f.'
"'I wonder couldn't we sing him to sleep,' says Cherokee Hall.
"'Nothin' ag'in a try,' says Jack, some desp'rate, wipin' his lips after the drink.
"'S'pose we-alls gives him "The Dyin' Ranger" an' "Sandy Land" for an hour or so, an' see,' says Boggs.
"In we trails.Cherokee lines up on one side of the infant, an' Jack on t'other; an' the rest of us takes chairs an' camps 'round, We starts in an' shore sings him all we knows; an' we keeps it up for hours.All the time, that child is a-settin' thar, a-battin' his eyes an' a-starin', sleepless as owls.The last I remembers is Boggs's voice on 'Sandy Land'
"'Great big taters on sandy land, Get thar, Eli, if you can.'
"The next thing I'm aware of, thar's a whoop an' a yell outside.We-alls wakes up--all except the infant, who's wide awake all along--an' yere it is; four o'clock in the mornin', an' the mother has come.Comes over on a speshul buckboard from the station where that old inebriate, Monte, drove off an' left her.Well, son, everybody's plumb willin' an' glad to see her.An' for that matter, splittin'
even, so's the infant."
