you. I was laughing about something that happened there—to a guy. Maybe you guys would get a kick out of it. After all, we got to keep our sense of humor.

You see, there was me and a Kentucky kid named Stillwell in this pit—a pretty big pit with lots of room—and we were all alone. This Stillwell was a nice kid—green and lonesome and it's pretty sad, really, but there's a yak in it, and—as I say—we got to keep a sense of humor.

Well, this Stillwell—a really green kid—is unhappy and just plain drooling for his gal back home. He talks about his mother, of course, and his old man, but it's the girl that's really on his mind as you guys can plainly understand.

He's seeing her every place—like spots in front of his eyes—nice spots doing things to him, when this Ruskie babe shows up.

My gun came up without any orders from me just as she poked her puss over the edge of the pit, and—huh? Oh, thank you kindly. It sure tastes good but I don't want to short you guys. Thank you kindly.

Well, as I was saying, this Ruskie babe pokes her nose over the edge of the pit and Stillwell dives and knocks down my gun. He says, "You son-of-a-bitch!" Just like that. Wild and desperate, like you'd say to a guy if the guy was just kicking over the last jug of water on a desert island.

It would have been long enough for her to kill us if I hadn't had good reflexes. Even then, all I had time to do was knock the pistol out of her hand and drag her into the pit.

With her play bollixed, she was confused and bewildered. She ain't a fighter, and she sits back against the wall staring at us dead pan with big expressionless eyes. She's a plenty pretty babe and I could see exactly what had happened as far as Stillwell was concerned. His spots had come to life in very adequate form so to speak.

Stillwell goes over and sits down beside her and I'm very much on the alert, because I know where his courage comes from. But I decide it's all right, because I see the babe is not belligerent, just confused kind of. And friendly.

And willing. Kind of a whipped-little-dog willing, and man oh man! She was sure what Stillwell needed.

They kind of went together like a hand and a glove—natural-like. And it followed—pretty natural—that when Stillwell got up and led her around a wing of the pit, out of sight, she went willing—like 

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