As we started for bed, Gun laid his hand on my shoulder and said:
"John, a good many years ago, you asked me to tell you the story of my
little girl. I refused then for her sake. I'll tell you in the morning."
After a hearty breakfast and a good cigar, Gunderson squared himself for
the story. He shut his eyes for a few minutes, as if to recall
something, and then, speaking as if to himself, he said:
"Well, sir, there wasn't a simmer anywhere, dampers all shut; you
wouldn't'a suspected they was up to the popping point, but the minute
they got their orders, and the con. put up his hand, so, up went--"
"Say," I interrupted, "I thought I was to have the story. I believe you
told me about the wedding, last night. The young couple started out
well."
"Oh, yes, old man, I forgot, the story; well, get on the next pit here,"
motioning to a seat next to him, "and I'll give you the history of an
old, hook-motion, name of Oscar Gunderson, and a trim, Class "G" made of
solid silver, from pilot to draft-gear.
"You think I'm a Swede; well, I ain't, I don't know what I am, but I
guess I come nearer to being a Chinaman than anything else.
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