They Have Their Troubles

Lovin Child, thumping head and heels regularly on the floor and
punctuating the thumps with screeches, was extinguished--suddenly,
completely silenced by the muffling fur that fell from the sky, so far
as he knew. The skin covered him completely. Not a sound came from under
it. The stillness was so absolute that Bud was scared, and so was Cash,
a little. It was as though Lovin Child, of a demon one instant, was in
the next instant snuffed out of existence.

"What yuh done?" Bud ejaculated, rolling wild eyes at Cash. "You--"

The coyote skin rattled a little. A fluff of yellow, a spark of blue,
and "Pik-k?" chirped Lovin Child from under the edge, and ducked back
again out of sight.

Bud sat down weakly on a box and shook his head slowly from one side to
the other. "You've got me going south," he made solemn confession to the
wobbling skin--or to what it concealed. "I throw up my hands, I'll tell
the world fair." He got up and went over and sat down on his bunk,
and rested his hands on his knees, and considered the problem of Lovin
Child.

"Here I've got wood to cut and water to bring and grub to cook, and I
can't do none of them because I've got to ride herd on you every minute.
You've got my goat, kid, and that's the truth. You sure have. Yes,
'Pik-k,' doggone yuh--after me going crazy with yuh, just about, and
thinking you're about to blow your radiator cap plumb up through the
roof! I'll tell yuh right here and now, this storm has got to let up
pretty quick so I can pack you outa here, or else I've got to pen you
up somehow, so I can do something besides watch you. Look at the way
you scattered them beans, over there by the cupboard! By rights I oughta
stand over yuh and make yuh pick every one of 'em up! and who was it
drug all the ashes outa the stove, I'd like to know?"