Roughing It

A saloon-keeper’s boy passed by with a steaming pitcher of hot punch, and Boggs snuffed the fragrance gratefully. He gazed fondly after the boy and saw him start up the Enterprise stairs. I said:

“I wish you could help me get that school business, but since you can’t, I must run up to the Union office and see if I can get them to let me have a proof of it after they have set it up, though I don’t begin to suppose they will. Good night.”

“Hold on a minute. I don’t mind getting the report and sitting around with the boys a little, while you copy it, if you’re willing to drop down to the principal’s with me.”

“Now you talk like a rational being. Come along.”

We plowed a couple of blocks through the snow, got the report and returned to our office. It was a short document and soon copied. Meantime Boggs helped himself to the punch. I gave the manuscript back to him

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