She'd lost most of her hairpins
and her gray hair was hangin' down her back. Also, she'd stepped on
the front of her skirt and ripped off a breadth. But them trifles
didn't seem to bother her a bit.
"Ho, ho!" she warbles merry. "Gold and jewels! The jewels of old
Spain and of the days of Louis Fourteenth. Pirate gold! We've dug it!
The very thing I've always wanted to do ever since I was a little girl.
Ho, ho!"
"And I rather guess," adds Old Hickory, fishin' a broken cigar out of
his vest pocket, "that as treasure hunters we're not such thundering
jokes, after all. Eh?"
And say, when Old Hickory starts crowin' you can know he sees clear
through to daylight. I looks over my shoulder just then, and, sure
enough, it's beginnin' to pink up in the east.
"My dope is," says I, "that it's goin' to be a large, wide day.
Anyhow, it opens well."
CHAPTER XVI
TORCHY TAKES A RUNNING JUMP
Course, it don't sound natural. A merry sunrise party is an event that
ain't often listed on the cards, unless it's a continuous session from
the evenin' before. But this wasn't a case of a bunch of
night-bloomin' gladiolas who'd lasted through. Hardly. Although
Auntie does have something of a look like the parties you see lined up
at Yorkville Court, charged with havin' been rude to taxi drivers; and
Mr.
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