"
"I'm not a pretty sight, Shirley. Better let me go about my
business."
She stamped her foot. "Come here!"
"Well, since you insist," he replied, and he slid down the bank.
"How did you get up there--and what do you mean by hiding there
spying on me, you--you--oh, YOU!"
"Cuss a little, if it will help any," he suggested. "I had to get out
of your way--out of your sight--and up there was the best place. I
was on the roof of the caboose when it toppled over, so all I had to
do was step ashore and sit down."
"Then why didn't you stay there?" she demanded furiously.
"You wouldn't let me," he answered demurely. "And when I saw you
weeping because I was supposed to be with the angels, I couldn't help
coughing to let you know I was still hanging around, ornery as a
book-agent."
"How did you ruin your face, Mr. Cardigan?"
"Tried to take a cast of the front end of the caboose in my classic
countenance--that's all."
"But you were riding the top log on the last truck--"
"Certainly, but I wasn't hayseed enough to stay there until we struck
this curve. I knew exactly what was going to happen, so I climbed
down to the bumper of the caboose, uncoupled it from the truck,
climbed up on the roof, and managed to get the old thing under
control with the hand-brake; then I skedaddled up into the brush
because I knew you were inside, and---By the way, Colonel Pennington,
here is your axe, which I borrowed this afternoon.
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