The Prairie Detective: Secret Service Series No. 24 — page 174: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

172 ‘THE PRAIRIE DETECTIVE. CHAPTER XIX. POSEY RYAN’S STORY. ‘““When I war a boy,”’ began the scout, ‘‘I lived in the north’ard part o’ York State. My dad handed in his chips when I war an infant, leaving my ma, my sister, an’ myself behind him. Fort’nitly he leit ~ us enough rocks so’s we could get along well enough ‘thout stintin’ ourselves. We lived alone some miles from the nearest village. Tharfore thar wa’n’t nothin’ perticallally rushin’ *bout the life we led. Kz fer me, I used to think a derned sight more o’«my fishrod an’ gun nor I did o’ books, an’ spent tarnal near all my time among the hills away from the sight o’ men. I liked the woods an’ the mounting air, but doggoned ef I did like strangers. “Sister Kate was a great hand to sketch with a pencil. Doggoned ef she couldn’t make han’somer picters outen nothin’ at all, ’cept a hunk o’ charcoal an’ aslab o’ white paper, nor ever I see. She war jest litenin’, she war. Wal, we got- along nice an’ easy like, never interferin’ with nobody, an’ never - bein’ interfered with, till it come along one summer, when all our troubles began. . “One bright day in June I took my old shootin’ iron an’ went off into the woods a huntin’ game. I war gone two days, an’ when I got back an’ walked into the house, thar sot a stranger. He war a fine-look- ing chap, well built, an’ well dressed. It appears thet he hed come to the house durin’ my absence, an’ axed to be took to board for a week. He hed comicboo cS co