Cattle strayed through the fence because he neglected to
mend it, calves escaping were caught and branded by unscrupulous
neighbours, a colt was found dead, cast in a deep gulch.
"What's the matter with Uncle Jap?" we asked, at the May-Day picnic.
Mrs. Fullalove, a friend of Mrs. Panel, answered the question.
"I'll tell ye," she said sharply. "Jaspar Panel has gotten a disease
common enough in Californy. He's sufferin' from a dose o' swelled
head."
Mrs. Panel sprang to her feet. Her face was scarlet; her pale eyes
snapped; the nostrils of her thin nose were dilated.
"Susan Jane Fullalove," she cried shrilly, "how dare you?"
Mrs. Fullalove remained calm.
"It's so, Lily. Yer so thin, I didn't see ye sittin' edgeways, but ye
needn't to ramp an' roar. Yer ranch _is_ flyin' to flinders
because Mr. Panel's tuk a notion that it's a-floatin' on a lake of
ile."
"An' mebbe it is," replied Mrs. Panel, subsiding.
Shortly afterwards we heard that Uncle Jap was frequenting saloons,
hanging about the hotels in the county town, hunting, of course, for a
capitalist who would bore for oil on shares, seeking the "angel" with
the dollars who would transport him and his Lily into the empyrean of
millionaires.
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