He filled his lungs with the vitalizing air, but expired his long breath with a sigh.
"What bothers me," said Jim to himself, "is, that the Lord lets one set of people that is happy, make it so thunderin' rough for another set of people that is onhappy.

An' there's another thing that bothers me," he said, continuing his audible cogitations.

"How do they 'xpect a feller is goin' to git well, when they put 'im where a well feller'd git sick?
I vow I think that poor old creetur that wanted me to kill her is straighter in her brains than any body I seen on the lot.

I couldn't live there a week, an' if I was a hopeless case, an' know'd it, I'd hang myself on a nail." Jim saw his host across the road, and went over to him.

Mr.Buffum had had a hard time with his pipes that morning, and was hoarse and very red in the face.
"Jolly lot you've got over there," said Jim.