"I don't know about that, but I don't intend to make a fool of myself
for any gal. I shall say, 'Sukey, here I am; I've got a little
money, and I'm your'n till death if you say so. If you don't want
me, I won't commit susancide."

"That's a capital joke, Joshua," said Joe. "Her name is Susan, isn't
it?"

"Have I made a joke? Waal, I didn't go to do it."

"It is unconscious wit, Mr. Bickford," said Kellogg.

"Pooty good joke, ain't it?" said Joshua complacently. "Susan-cide,
and her name is Susan. Ho! ho! I never thought on't."

And Joshua roared in appreciation of the joke which he had
unwittingly perpetrated, for it must be explained that he thought
susan-cide the proper form of the word expressing a voluntary
severing of the vital cord.

Years afterward, when Joshua found himself the center of a social
throng, he was wont to say, "Ever heard that joke I made about
Susan?" and then he would cite it amid the plaudits of his friends.

Mr. Bickford and Joe had not disposed of their horses. They had
suffered them to forage in the neighborhood of the river, thinking it
possible that the time would come when they would require them.

One fine morning they set out from the camp near the banks of the