One pleasant thing about this time was that
everybody talked more than usual. I had
never heard the postmaster say anything but
"Only papers, today," or, "I've got a sackful
of mail for ye," until this afternoon. Grand-
mother always talked, dear woman; to herself
or to the Lord, if there was no one else to
listen; but grandfather was naturally taci-
turn, and Jake and Otto were often so tired
after supper that I used to feel as if I were
surrounded by a wall of silence. Now every
one seemed eager to talk. That afternoon
Fuchs told me story after story; about the
Black Tiger mine, and about violent deaths
and casual buryings, and the queer fancies of
dying men. You never really knew a man, he
said, until you saw him die. Most men were
game, and went without a grudge.

The postmaster, going home, stopped to
say that grandfather would bring the coroner
back with him to spend the night. The officers
of the Norwegian church, he told us, had held
a meeting and decided that the Norwegian
graveyard could not extend its hospitality to
Mr. Shimerda.

Grandmother was indignant. "If these for-
eigners are so clannish, Mr. Bushy, we'll have

[[127]]

p126 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p127w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p128

v?