Jim out with a pick, without any letting on, because you don’t know no better; but it wouldn’t for me, because I do know better. Gimme a case-knife.”

He had his own by him, but I handed him mine. He flung it down, and says:

“Gimme a case-knife.”

I didn’t know just what to do — but then I thought. I scratched around amongst the old tools, and got a pickax and give it to him, and he took it and went to work, and never said a word.

He was always just that particular. Full of principle.

So then I got a shovel, and then we picked and shoveled, turn about, and made the fur fly.

We stuck to it about a half an hour,