"
He arose, swung his bag to his shoulder, and together they left the
bridge, and struck the road leading to Rainbow Bottom. It was
late February. The air was raw,and the walking heavy. Jimmy saw
little around him, and there was little Dannie did not see. To him,
his farm, the river, and the cabins in Rainbow Bottom meant all
there was of life, for all he loved on earth was there. But loafing
in town on rainy days, when Dannie sat with a book; hearing the
talk at Casey's, at the hotel, and on the streets, had given Jimmy
different views of life, and made his lot seem paltry compared with
that of men who had greater possessions. On days when Jimmy's luck
was bad, or when a fever of thirst burned him, he usually
discoursed on some sort of intangible experience that men had,
which he called "seeing life." His rat bag was unusually light that
night, and in a vague way he connected it with the breaking up of
the ice. When the river lay solid he usually carried home just
twice the rats Dannie had, and as he had patronized Dannie all his
life, it fretted Jimmy to be behind even one day at the traps.
"Be Jasus, I get tired of this!" he said. "Always and foriver the
same thing. I kape goin' this trail so much that I've got a
speakin' acquaintance with meself. Some of these days I'm goin' to
take a trip, and have a little change. I'd like to see Chicago,
and as far west as the middle, anyway."
"Well, ye canna go," said Dannie. "Ye mind the time when ye were
married, and I thought I'd be best away, and packed my trunk? When
ye and Mary caught me, ye got mad as fire, and she cried, and I had
to stay.
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