MY FAVORITE STORIES

By Jach Dronne

The Touch French Lumberjack Who Fought Mccarthy

(Here is one that was told in the lumber woods of the North, when, as a kid, I used to visit the lumber camps and river drives. It is most ancient.)

A French lumberjack, down from the woods spending his "roll" in town, was licking up licker at a bar, surrounded by an admiring crowd, and was making loud and boastful "war talk." A friend passing by heard and saw him, and drew him into a corner for a confidential talk. "Listen Joe," he said "you ought to cut out thisr fighting talk, or you may get into trouble."

"Trouble !" exclaimed the Frenchman, "What you mean trouble? I'm a bad man, me! I ain't fraid from nobody !"

"All right," said his friend, "if that's the way you feel about it, go ahead, but if you do this big Irishman McCarthy is liable to get hold of you."

"What H'frishman Mack-carty? Where is he? Show him to me ! I can lick any H'Irishman in de worl ! Where is he? I'll go find him!" Wildly cried the Frenchman.

"Well, I'll leave you alone if that's the way you feel," said his friend, "but you needn't waste your time trying to find McCarthy. You just keep on talking loud like you have been, and he'll find YOU," and away he went, leaving the Frenchman protesting what he was going to do when he found "Mack-carty."

The next morning this same friend ran right into the Frenchman on the street. and the Frenchman looked like a wreck His eyes were discolored and swollen, his lips were cut, his teeth were missing in front, his nose was black and swollen, and there was a bandage around his head. He tried to dodge his friend, but was cornered, and then sought refuge in apparent unconcern.

"Well Joe," said the friend "what happened to you? Did you get hit by a train?"

"Naw," replied the Frenchman disgustedly, "f didn't get