For the first season, the old man and his narrations, being fresh and novel, he was quite a _lion_ among the woodmen, but now that the novelty had worn off, and they'd got used to his long yarns, they voted him "an old bore!" The old fellow smoked a tremendous pipe, with tobacco strong enough to give a Spaniard the "yaller fever." He would eat his supper, light his pipe--sit down by the fire, and spin yarns, as long as a listener remained, and longer. In short, Old Tantabolus would _spin_ them all to bed, and then make their heads spin, with the clouds of _baccy_ smoke with which he'd fill the _ranche_.
Going to bed, at length, on a bunk in a corner, the old chap would wheeze and snore for an hour or two, and then turning out again, between daybreak and midnight, Old Tantabolus would pile on a cord or two of fresh wood--raise a roaring fire--make the _ranche_ hot enough to roast an ox, then treat all hands to another _stifling_ with his old _calumet_, and nigger-head tobacco! Then would commence a--
"A-booh! oo-_oo!_" by one of the lodgers, overhead.
"Boo-oo-_ooh!_ Old Tantabolus's got that--booh-oo-oo-_oo_,--pipe of his'n again,--boo-oo-oo!" chimed another.
"A-a-a-_chee!_ oo-oo-augh-h-h-_ch-chee!_ Cuss that--a-_chee_--pipe. Tantabolus, you old hoss-marine, put out that--a-_chee!_--darn'd old pipe!" bawled another.
"A'_nand_?" was the old fellow's usual reply.
"A-boo-ooh-_ooh!_" hoarse and loud as a boatswain's call, in a gale of wind, would be issued from the throat of an old "logger," as the fumigacious odor interfered with his respiratory arrangements, and then would follow a miscellaneous--
"A-_chee_-o! Ah-_chee!_ boo-ooh-oo-_ooh!_" tapering off with divers curses and threats, upon Old Tantabolus and his villanous habits of arousing "the whole community" in "the dead watches and middle of the night," with heat and smoke, no flesh and blood but his own could apparently endure.
At length, a private _caucus_ was held, and a diabolical plan set, to put a summary end to the grievous nuisances engendered by Old Tantabolus--"_let's blow him up!_"
And this they agreed to do in _this_ wise. Before "retiring to rest," as we say in civilized _parlance_, the lodging community were in the habit of laying in a surplus of firewood, alongside of the capacious fire-place, in order--should a very common occurrence _occur_,--i. e., a fall of snow six to ten feet deep, and kiver things all up, the insiders might have wherewith to make themselves comfortable, until they could work out and provide more. But Old Tantabolus was in the wasteful practice of turning out and burning up all this extra fuel; so the caucus agreed to bore an inch and a quarter hole into a solid stick--pack it with powder--lay it among the wood, and when Old Tantabolus _riz_ to fire up, he'd be blowed out of the building, and disappear--_in a blue blaze!_ Well, poor old man, Tantabolus, quite unconscious of the dire explosion awaiting him, told his yarns, next evening, with greater _gusto_ than usual, and one after another of his listeners finally dropped off to _roost_, in the loft above, leaving the old man to go it alone--finish his pipe, stagnate the air and go to his bunk, which, as was his wont to do--he did. Stillness reigned supreme; though Old Tantabolus took his usual snooze in very apparent confidence, many of his no less weary companions above--watched for the approaching _tableaux!_ And they were gratified, to their heart's content, for the tableaux _came!_