Read Frank Merriwell's Triumph; Or, The Disappearance of Felicia Page 22


  CHAPTER XXI.

  THE LOTTERY OF DEATH.

  Men were lying about on the ground, sleeping where they had dropped.Picketed horses were grazing at a little distance. The most of the menslept heavily, but one or two routed up as the guards brought the boyand girl and the captured horse to the bivouac.

  "Whatever has you there?" growlingly asked one of the men who hadawakened.

  "Some lost children we finds near yere," was the answer.

  Macklyn Morgan, wrapped in his blanket, had also awakened. His curiositywas aroused, and he flung off the blanket and got up.

  "Children!" he said. "How does it happen that there are children in thiswretched region?"

  One of the men explained how he had heard the sound of the fiddle, whichhad led them to the boy and girl. He also repeated Abe's story, addingthat it sounded "fishy." The interest of Morgan was redoubled at once.He immediately turned his attention to the hunchback.

  "Going to Flagstaff to meet Frank Merriwell's brother, did you say?" hequestioned, attempting a kindly manner. "Seems to me that was rather acrazy undertaking, my lad. And what is Frank Merriwell's brother doingin Flagstaff?"

  "He jest said he was going there on his way to Californy," declared Abe,trying to stick to his original story and make it seem consistent. "Wehope to see him there."

  Felicia was silent; but she felt that Abe's yarn was not believed by themen.

  "How did you happen to know this Dick Merriwell?" questioned Morgan.

  Abe started to reply, but faltered and stammered a little, whereuponFelicia quickly said:

  "I am his cousin."

  Instantly the man's interest was redoubled.

  "His cousin, eh?" he exclaimed. "Now we're getting at it. Curtis, starta fire. I want to look these children over."

  While the man thus ordered was complying Morgan continued to questionthe girl and boy, but now his interest seemed centred in Felicia.

  "So you are also the cousin of Frank Merriwell?" he said. "Tell me moreabout these two Merriwells. I have heard of Frank Merriwell, and Iconsider him a most excellent young man. I admire him very much."

  He endeavored to make his words sound sincere, but little Abe fanciedthere was a false ring in them.

  "You know Dick is Frank's half-brother, sir," said the girl. "He attendsschool in the East. I was at school in the same place once, but theclimate didn't agree with me, and so Frank sent me West for my health."

  "Have you seen him lately?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "When?"

  "In Prescott, a few days ago. He was there, but some bad men made a lotof trouble for him and he left."

  "This boy is your brother?" asked Morgan, indicating Abe.

  "Why, yes, sir!" broke in Abe, quickly, seeing that Felicia would soonbe trapped. "I am a sort of brother; an adopted brother, you know."

  "Oh, that's it?" said Morgan. "But if you were living on a ranch down onthe Rio Verde, how did you happen to be in Prescott when Frank Merriwellwas there?"

  "Why, we jest went there. Dad he took us there," hastily asserted thehunchback, seeking to maintain the original deception.

  "Is that true?" asked Morgan of Felicia.

  She was silent.

  "Of course it's true!" indignantly exclaimed the boy.

  "It seems to me that you are somewhat mixed, my child. Now, I advise youto trust me. It will be the best thing you can do. I advise you to tellme the truth. At this time we're on our way to join Frank Merriwell andhelp him to defend his new mines. He has many enemies, you know. Wemight take you directly to him."

  "Oh, splendid!" exclaimed the girl, all her suspicions disarmed. "Frankwill be so glad! We thought, perhaps, you might be his enemy; that's whywe were afraid of you."

  Macklyn Morgan forced a laugh, which he tried to make very pleasant andreassuring.

  "You see how wrong you were," he said. "You see now that it's a mistaketo try to deceive me. It's best to tell me the truth and nothing else.This story about living on a ranch--how about it?"

  "Oh, Abe told you that when he thought you must be Frank's enemy," saidFelicia.

  "Then it wasn't quite true?"

  "No, no."

  "And you were not on your way to Flagstaff to meet Dick Merriwellthere?"

  "No; we left Prescott in company with Dick and some friends, who were ontheir way to join Frank."

  Felicia hastened on and told the entire story.

  Abe listened in doubt as to the wisdom of this, shaking his head alittle, but remaining silent.

  "Now we're getting at the facts," smiled Morgan, as the fire was startedand its light fell on his face. "It's much better for us all."

  He had assumed a free, benevolent, kindly expression, and to the girl itseemed that he could not be deceiving them. Morgan continued to questionher until at length he learned everything he desired.

  "Now, my child," he said, "just you rest easy. We will soon join FrankMerriwell, and, of course, this brother of his with his friends willarrive all right in due time."

  Morgan then stepped over to where one of the sleeping men lay andaroused him.

  "Wake up, Hackett," he said, in a low tone. "Something mighty importanthas taken place."

  He then told the man what had happened, and Hackett listenedattentively.

  "It seems to me," he said, "that these yere kids are going to be anincumbrance on us."

  "That's where you're wrong," asserted Morgan. "With the aid of thesechildren we ought to be able to bring Frank Merriwell to some sort ofterms."

  "I don't see how, sir."

  "Why, it's plain he thinks a lot of this girl. We have her. If thatdoesn't trouble him some, I am greatly mistaken."

  "Mebbe you're right," nodded Hackett. "I reckon I begin to see yourlittle game, Mr. Morgan. Let me look these yere kids over some."

  He arose and proceeded to the fire, in company with Morgan, whocautioned him, however, to say little to the boy and girl, fearingHackett might make some observation that would betray the truth.

  "She's some pretty, sir," said Gad, admiring Felicia; "though she'snothing but a kid. I reckon she makes a stunner when she gits older."

  "Hush!" said Morgan. "That's nothing to you."

  "Oh, I has an eye for female beauty!" grinned Hackett. "It's nateralwith me."

  Suddenly, to their surprise, without the least warning, a man seemed torise from the ground a short distance away and walk straight toward thefire. Hackett had his pistol out in a twinkling, but he stood with mouthagape as he saw the newcomer was an old Indian, about whose shoulders adirty red blanket was draped. It was Felicia, however, who was the mostsurprised, and a cry left her lips, for she recognized old Joe Crowfoot.

  Even as she uttered that cry the eyes of the old redskin shot her awarning look that somehow silenced her. Without giving Hackett as muchas a glance, old Joe walked up to the fire, before which he squatted,extending his hands to its warmth.

  "Well, dern me, if that don't beat the deck!" growled Hackett. "Theseyere red wards of the government are a-getting so they makes theirselvesto home anywhere. And you never knows when they're around. Now, thisyere one he pops right out o' the ground like."

  Then he turned savagely on Joe.

  "What are you prowling around yere for, you old vagrant?" he demandedthreateningly. "Who are you?"

  Crowfoot rolled his little beady eyes up at the man.

  "Heap flying bird," he answered. "Go through air; go everywhere. Gothrough ground. White man did him see red snake with horse's head? Injunride on red snake like the wind."

  "What's this jargon?" muttered Morgan.

  "Hark!" warned the Indian, lifting a hand. "You hear the flying lizardsing? See that big one up there. See um great green eyes."

  Then he stared straight upward, as if beholding something in the air.Involuntarily both men looked upward, but they saw nothing above themsave the stars of the sky.

  Felicia, who knew old Joe very well, was more than astonished by hissingular manner and remarkable
words. Her first impulse had been tospring up and greet him joyously, but the look from his black eyes hadstopped her. Now, as if she were a total stranger to him, he gave her noattention. Suddenly he thumped himself on the breast with his clinchedfist.

  "Injun him all iron!" he declared. "Him like pale-face iron horse. Whensun he comes up again Injun he go on white man's iron track. He blowsmoke and fire and shriek same as iron horse."

  "Well, bat me, if the old whelp ain't daffy!" exclaimed Hackett. "He'splumb off his nut, sure as shooting."

  "When Injun him lay down to sleep," said Crowfoot, "many stars come andjump like antelope over him. No let him sleep. Him try to scare um away,but star no scare. Bimeby Injun he get sick. He get up and run away.Then star chase um Injun."

  "You're right, Hackett," said Morgan, "He's loony, for a fact."

  At this point one of the guards came walking up to the fire. The momenthis eyes fell on Crowfoot he uttered a shout that instantly arousedevery one of the sleeping men.

  "By the great horn toads!" he exploded savagely; "that's the old skunkwhat drugged the whole bunch of us when Pete Curry nabbed us! Whateveris he doing here?"

  Without even looking up, Crowfoot began to chant a strange, doleful songin his own language.

  "The boys will certain salivate him," asserted the guard, as the menwere rising and approaching the fire.

  Old Joe apparently heard nothing and saw nothing. That singular chantcontinued.

  "He is dead loony," said Hackett.

  "Then mebbe he's been taking some of his own dope," growled the guard."The boys will knock some o' his looniness out o' him, you bet!"

  As the men gathered around, a number of them recognized the agedredskin, and immediately there was a great commotion. Several drew theirweapons, and it seemed that Joe would be murdered on the spot. With ascream of terror, Felicia flung herself before the old man, to whom sheclung.

  "No! no! no!" she cried. "You shall not hurt him!"

  In the excitement old Joe whispered in her ear:

  "Keep still, Night Eyes. Um bad men no hurt Joe. Him touched by GreatSpirit. Nobody hurt um man touched by Great Spirit."

  This, then, was the old fellow's scheme. This explained how it happenedthat he dared venture into the nest of desperadoes. Among the Indians ofall tribes a deranged man is regarded with awe as one who has felt thetouch of the Great Spirit. No redskin will harm a deranged person,believing the vengeance of the Great Father must fall on whoever doessuch a thing. Shrewd as he was, Crowfoot had not yet discovered thatpalefaces did not regard crazed people with such a feeling of awe.

  "Take the girl away," roared several of the men. "Let us settle with theold Injun."

  If Morgan thought of interfering, he was too late, for rude hands seizedFelicia and dragged her away, in spite of her struggles. She cried andpleaded, but all her efforts were useless. Crowfoot paid no attention toher, nor did he heed the threatening weapons in the hands of theruffians. Rising to his feet, he did a solemn dance around the fire, atthe same time continuing his doleful chant.

  "That yere certain is a death dance for him," muttered Hackett, whorealized that the men were aroused to a pitch at which they would insiston wiping the fellow out.

  "The black moon him soon come up," said Joe, standing with one handoutstretched as he finished his dance. "Then we see spirits of many deadwarriors chase um buffalo over it."

  "You will have a chance to take a chase with the rest o' the bunch,"snarled one of the men. "Stand back, boys, and watch me cook him."

  "Hold on!" cried another, catching the man's wrist. "I opine I am inthis yere."

  Immediately an argument arose as to which of them should have thesatisfaction of killing the Indian who had once fooled them sothoroughly. While this was taking place Joe continued, apparentlyoblivious of his danger, talking of flying horses and a dozen otherimpossible creatures. He must have realized that his apparent madnesswas making no impression on these men, but he seemed determined to playthe game through to the finish. At length, he squatted again beside thefire, resuming his doleful chant.

  By this time it had been settled that some one of the party should havethe privilege of shooting the Indian, for it was agreed that to waste anumber of bullets on him was folly. There was some discussion as to themanner of choosing the slayer, but the desperadoes finally decided ondrawing lots.

  Hackett, who took no part in this demand for the Indian's life, waschosen to prepare the lots, which he did. Then the men eagerly pressedforward to draw. The one who drew the shortest piece was to be the"fortunate" individual. All the while Crowfoot was guarded by men withdrawn and ready weapons. Had he made an effort to get away he would havebeen riddled immediately.

  Finally the lots were compared, and a half-blood Mexican, with leatheryskin, drooping mustache, deep-furrowed face, and matted black hair, wasthe one who held the shortest piece. He laughed as he displayed it.

  "Stand back!" he cried, flashing a pistol and striding forward to withinfour paces of the Indian. "I will settle him with one piece of lead."

  Then, as this wretch lifted his weapon, old Joe realized at last thathis game had failed utterly. There was no escape for him. His long lifehad led him at last to this, and he believed he stood at the gateway ofthe happy hunting grounds. Had there been hope of escape he would havemade the attempt. Now, as he still crouched by the fire, he drew his redblanket over his head, and from beneath its muffling folds came the sadand doleful chant of the redman's death song.

  The executioner stood fair and full in the firelight. He brought hisweapon to a level and a shot rang out. It was not he, however, whofired. From somewhere near at hand a report sounded, and the pistol flewfrom his hand as the bullet tore through his forearm. A yell of painescaped his lips.

  Instantly the ruffians were thrown into the utmost confusion. Feelingthat they were about to be attacked, they hastened to get away from thefire, the light of which must betray them to the enemy.

  In spite of his age, like a leaping panther, old Joe shot to his feet.With one hand he seized little Abe, whom he snatched clear of theground. And the next instant the old savage was running for his life.Two or three shots were fired, but in the excitement Crowfoot wasuntouched.

  They were given no further time to turn their attention on him. From outof the shadows came a single horseman, bearing straight down upon them,his weapons flashing. The recklessness of this charge and the astoundingsuddenness with which it came was too much for the nerves of those men.

  Felicia had been released by the man who was holding her as the firstshot was fired. This man pulled a weapon and fired once at the shadowyhorseman, after which he ran like a frightened antelope, for a screamingbullet had cut his ear. It seemed that the horseman meant to rideFelicia down. In her fear she stood still, as if turned to stone, whichwas the best thing she could have done.

  As he swept past her, the rider swung low to one side in the saddle, andsomehow one strong young hand grasped her and snatched her from theground. She felt herself lifted with such suddenness that her breathseemed snapped away, and then she lay across the horse in front of therider, who now bent low over her.

  Bullets whined, and whistled, and sang about them, but some good fairymust have guarded them, for they were untouched. On they went. Thesounds of irregular shooting fell farther and farther behind them.

  Felicia had not fainted, although her senses swam and she seemed on theverge of losing consciousness. She could not understand just what hadtaken place. Suddenly her rescuer began to laugh, and a strange, wild,boyish laugh it was. It thrilled her through and through.

  "Dick!" she gasped. "Oh, Dick!"

  He straightened up and lifted her, holding her before him with onestrong arm.

  "Felicia!" he exclaimed, "are you hurt?"

  "Oh, Dick! Dick!" she repeated, in wonder. "And is it you?"

  "You are not hurt?" he persisted in questioning.

  "No, Dick--no."

  "Thank goodness!"

  "But how
was it? My head is swimming; I can't understand. I am dazed."

  "Well, I fancy I dazed those fine gentlemen a little," said the boy."Felicia, I have been searching, searching everywhere for you. Wefollowed your trail as well as we could. When night came we had notfound you. I couldn't rest. What fate it was that led me to thoseruffians I cannot say, but I believe the hand of Heaven was in it. Intheir excitement over Crowfoot none of them heard my approach. I wasquite near when that brute lifted his weapon to shoot Joe. I didn't wantto kill him, and I fired at his arm. It was a lucky shot, for I hit him.He stood between me and the firelight, so that the light fell on thebarrel of my pistol. Crowfoot took his cue quickly enough, for I saw himscamper."

  "How brave you are! How brave you are!" murmured the girl, in untoldadmiration. "Oh, Dick, I can't believe it now."

  "It was not such a brave thing, after all," he said. "I suppose mostpeople would call it folly. But I had to do it. Why, old Joe saved mylife a dozen times when I used to hunt with him years ago. He loved meas a father might love a son. You see it was impossible for me to keepstill and see him murdered. I had to do something to save him. He canhide like a gopher on the open plain."

  "But Abe, Dick--Abe?"

  "I saw Crowfoot snatch him up as he ran. We must leave Abe to old Joe."

  "Listen, Dick! Are they pursuing us?"

  "We have the start on them, Felicia, and I don't believe they will beable to overtake us if they try it."

  Through the night they rode. At the first opportunity Dick turned fromhis course and doubled in a manner intended to baffle the pursuers.

  "It will be a long pull back to Bart and the others, Felicia," he said;"but I think we can make it all right. For all of the time I have spentat school, I have not forgotten the lessons taught me by Crowfoot when Iwas a mere kid. He taught me to set my course by the stars, the wind,the trees, by a score of things. To-night our guide shall be the stars."

  Brad Buckhart was worried and troubled greatly over Dick's long absence,and was on guard where they had camped as night fell. The Texan trampedrestlessly up and down, now and then pausing to listen. The othersslept. Wiley snored lustily and muttered in his sleep.

  "Avast, there!" he mumbled. "Put her to port, you lubber!"

  Then, after snoring again in the most peaceful manner, he broke out:

  "Right over the corner of the pan, Breck, old boy. Let's see you make ahome run off that bender!"

  Brad moved still farther away that he might listen without beingdisturbed by the sailor. Far in the night he seemed to hear a sound.Kneeling, he leaned his ear close to the ground and listenedattentively.

  "Horseman coming," he decided. "It must be Dick--it must be!"

  Finally the hoofbeats of the approaching horse became more and moredistinct. Then through the still, clear night came a clear, faintwhistle.

  "Dick it is!" exclaimed the Texan joyously.

  Dick it was, and with him he brought Felicia safely back to them. Theydid not arouse the others, but she was wrapped in blankets and left tosleep, if possible, through the remainder of the still, cool night.Young Merriwell's story filled the Texan with unbounded astonishment andadmiration. He seized Dick's hand and shook it with almost savagedelight.

  "Talk about a howling terror on ten wheels!" he exclaimed. "Why, yousimply beat the universe. You hear me gurgle! Now you just turn in, forI reckon you're a whole lot pegged out."

  "Well, sleep won't hurt me if I can corral some of it," acknowledgedDick.

  Brad continued to stand guard, thinking that later he would arouse oneof the others to take his place. His restlessness and worry had passedsomewhat, and after a time he sat down, thinking over the startlingthings that had happened. It was thus that, exhausted more than he knew,he finally slid to the ground and also slept. The night passed withoutany of them being disturbed. But in the morning the first man to awakenwas Pete Curry, who sat up, rubbing his eyes, and uttered a shout ofastonishment. The remaining sleepers awoke and started up.

  What they saw astounded them no less than it had Curry, for on theground near at hand lay little Abe, with Joe Crowfoot's dirty redblanket tucked about him, and within three feet sat the redskin, calmlyand serenely smoking his pipe.

  Dick flung off his blanket and was on his feet in a twinkling.

  "Crowfoot!" he joyously cried, rushing forward with his armsoutstretched.

  For one who complained of rheumatism and advancing age the redskin rosewith remarkable quickness. Usually stolid and indifferent in manner, thelook that now came to his wrinkled, leathery face was one of such deepfeeling and affection that it astounded every one but himself. The oldman clasped Dick in his arms as a father might a long-lost son. To Curryand his companions this was a most singular spectacle. Curry had seizeda weapon on discovering Crowfoot. He did not use it when the old fellowremained silent and indifferent after his shout of astonishment andalarm.

  That the boy should embrace the Indian in such an affectionate mannerseemed almost disgusting to Curry and his assistants, all three of whomheld Indians in the utmost contempt. For a moment it seemed that the oldman's heart was too full for speech. Finally, with a strange tendernessand depth of feeling in his voice, he said:

  "Injun Heart, Great Spirit heap good to old Joe! He let him live to seeyou some more. What him eyes see make him heart swell with heap biggladness. Soon him go to happy hunting ground; now him go and make um nobig kick 'bout it."

  "Joe, I have longed to see you again," declared Dick, his voice unsteadyand a mist in his eyes. "Sometimes my heart has yearned for the old dayswith you on the plains and amid the mountains. I have longed to be withyou again, hunting the grizzly, or sleeping in the shade by a murmuringbrook and beneath whispering trees. Then you taught me the secrets ofthe wild animals and the birds. I have forgotten them now, Joe. I can nolonger call the birds and tiny animals of the forest to me. In that wayI am changed, Joe; but my heart remains the same toward you, and everwill."

  Now the old redskin held Dick off by both shoulders and surveyed him upand down with those beady eyes, which finally rested on the boy'shandsome face with a look of inexpressible admiration.

  "Heap fine! Heap fine!" said the old man. "Joe him know it. Joe him sureyou make great man. Joe him no live to see you have whiskers on um face,but you sure make great man. Joe him getting heap close to end of trail.Rheumatism crook him and make um swear sometime."

  "Don't talk about getting near the end of the trail, Crowfoot," laughedDick, whose heart was full of delight over this meeting. "You oldhypocrite! I saw you last night! I saw you when you took to your heelsafter I perforated the gentleman who contemplated cutting your thread oflife short. Rheumatism! Why, you deceptive old rascal, you ran like adeer! If your rheumatism was very bad, you couldn't take to your heelsin that fashion."

  Crowfoot actually grinned.

  "Injun him have to run," he asserted. "Bullets come fast and thick. IfInjun him run slow mebbe he get ketched by bullet."

  Little Abe had risen on one elbow, the blanket falling from hisshoulders, and watched the meeting between Dick and the old savage.Felicia also was awakened, and now she came hastening forward, her darkeyes aglow and a slight flush in her delicate cheeks.

  "Joe! Joe! have you forgotten me?" she asked.

  The redskin turned at once and held out his hands to her.

  "Night Eyes," he said, with such softness that all save Dick and Feliciawere astonished, "little child of silent valley hid in mountains, nextto Injun Heart, old Joe him love you most. You good to old Joe. Longtime 'go Joe he come to valley hid in mountains and he sit by cabinthere. He see you play with Injun Heart. Warm sun shine in valleythrough long, long day. All Joe do he smoked, and sat, and watched.Bimeby when Night Eyes was very tired she come crawling close up sideold Joe and lean her head 'gainst Joe, and sleep shut her eyes. Then oldJoe him keep still. When Injun Heart he come near old Joe, him say,'Sh-h!' He hold up his hand; he say, 'Keep much still.' Then mebbe NightEyes she sleep and sleep, and sun he go down, an
d birds they sing lastgood-night song, and stars shine out, and old Joe him sit still all thetime. Oh, he no forget--he no forget!"

  Somehow the simple words of the old redskin brought back all the past,which seemed so very, very far away, and tears welled from Felicia'seyes.

  "Oh, those were happy days, Joe--happy days!" she murmured. "I fear Ishall never be so happy again--never, never!"

  "Oh, must be happy!" declared the old fellow. "Dick him make um NightEyes happy. Him look out for Night Eyes."

  "Just the same," she declared, "I would give anything, anything, to beback in that valley now, just as I was long, long ago."

  With his head cocked on one side, Cap'n Wiley had been watching themeeting between the Indian and his young friends. Wiley now turned toBuckhart and remarked:

  "I am learning extensively in this variegated world. As the years rollon my accumulation of knowledge increases with susceptible rapidity. Upto the present occasion I have been inclined to think that about theonly thing a real Injun could be good for was for a target. It seems tomy acute perception that in this immediate instance there is at leastone exception to the rule. Although yonder copper-hued individual lookssomewhat scarred and weather-beaten, I observe that Richard Merriwellhesitates in no degree to embrace him. Who is the old tike, mate?"

  "Why, old Joe Crowfoot!" answered Brad. "The only Indian I ever saw ofhis kind."

  Immediately Wiley approached old Joe, walking teeteringly on the ballsof his feet, after his own peculiar fashion, made a salute, andexclaimed:

  "I salute you, Joseph Crowfoot, Esquire, and may your shadow never growless. May you take your medicine regularly and live to the ripe roundage of one hundred years. Perhaps you don't know me. Perhaps you haven'theard of me. That is your misfortune. I am Cap'n Wiley, a rover of thebriny deep and a corking first-class baseball player. Ever playbaseball, Joe, old boy? It's a great game. You would enjoy it. In mymind's eye I see you swing the bat like a war club and swat the spherehard enough to dent it. Or perchance you are attempting to overhaul thebase runner, and I see him fleeing wildly before you, as if he fanciedyou were reaching for his scalp locks."

  "Ugh!" grunted old Joe. "No know who um be; but know heap good name forum. Joe he give you name. He call you Wind-in-the-head."

  At this the others, with the exception of Wiley himself, laughedoutright. The sailor, however, did not seem at all pleased.

  "It's plain, Joseph," he observed, "that you have a reckless littlehabit of getting gay occasionally. Take my advice and check that habitbefore it leads you up against a colossal calamity."

  "Wind-in-the-head he talk heap many big words," said the Indian. "Mebbesometime he talk big words that choke him."

  "That's a choke, Wiley," laughed Dick.

  "And that certainly is the worst pun it has ever been my misfortune tohear," half sobbed the sailor. "One more like that would give me heartfailure. Did you ever hear of the time I had heart failure in thatbaseball game with the Cleveland Nationals? Well, mates, it was----"

  "We can't stand one of them before breakfast, Wiley," interrupted Dick."It may prove too much for us. After breakfast we will endeavor tolisten while you relate one of your harrowing experiences."

  "But this thing is burning in my bosom. I long to disgorge it."

  "You have to let it burn, I think. We should be on the move by thistime."

  Thus Wiley was repressed and prevented from relating one of hismarvelous yarns, not a little to his disgust.