Ilswunga was a
filthy creature. She would not bathe, and her ways were not good . . .
I did marry Ilswunga, but she was a wife to me only in name. Then did
she complain to her father, the old Pi-Une, and he was very wroth. And
dissension was sown among the tribes; but in the end I became mightier
than ever, what of my cunning and resource; and Ilswunga made no more
complaint, for I taught her games with cards which she might play by
herself, and other things_.'"
"Is that enough?" Courbertin asked.
"Yes, that will do," Bill Brown answered. "But one moment. Please
state again the date of publication."
"1807, in Warsaw."
"Hold on, baron," Del Bishop spoke up. "Now that you're on the stand,
I've got a question or so to slap into you." He turned to the
court-room. "Gentlemen, you've all heard somewhat of the prisoner's
experiences in Siberia. You've caught on to the remarkable sameness
between them and those published by Father Yakontsk nearly a hundred
years ago. And you have concluded that there's been some wholesale
cribbing somewhere. I propose to show you that it's more than
cribbing. The prisoner gave me the shake on the Reindeer River in '88.
Fall of '88 he was at St. Michael's on his way to Siberia. '89 and '90
he was, by his talk, cutting up antics in Siberia. '91 he come back to
the world, working the conquering-hero graft in 'Frisco.
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