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  "'"An', ladies an' gents," concloodes this Witherspoon, makin' a incriminatin' gesture so's to incloode my grandfather that a-way; "when I reflects on this onblushin' turncoat, Jack Sterett, as I states prior, it makes me think of how Jedge Chinn lavishes that Berkshire shoat on blacksmith Bill Hatfield. Confessin' that aforetime he's a nullification pig on Mink Run, he sets yere at this barbecue an' without color of shame declar's himse'f a union pup. Mister Cha'rman, all I can say is, it shore beats squinch owls!"

  "'As the story is finished, the trooce which binds my grandfather ends, an' he pulls his bowie-knife an' chases this Witherspoon from the rostrum. He'd had his detractor's skelp right thar, but the cha'rman an' other leadin' sperits interferes, an' insists on them resentments of my grandfather's findin' the usual channel in their expression. Witherspoon, who's got on a new blanket coat, allows he won't fight none with knives as they cuts an' sp'iles your clothes; he says he prefers rifles an' fifty paces for his. My grandfather, who's the easiest gent to get along with in matters of mere detail, is agree'ble; an' as neither him nor Witherspoon has brought their weepons, the two vice pres'dents, who's goin' to act as seconds—the pres'dent by mootual consent dealin' the game as referee—rummages about air' borrys a brace of Looeyville rifles from members of the Black B'ar Glee Club—they're the barytone an' tenor—an' my grandfather an' the scandal-mongerin' Witherspoon is stood up.

  "'"Gents," says the pres'dent, "the words will be, 'Fire-one-two- three-stop.' It's incumbent on you-all to blaze away anywhere between the words 'Fire' an' 'Stop'. My partin' injunctions is, 'May heaven defend the right,' an' be shore an' see your hindsights as you onhooks your guns."

  "'At the word, my grandfather an' Witherspoon responds prompt an' gay. Witherspoon overshoots, while my grandfather plants his lead in among Witherspoon's idees, an' that racontoor quits Kaintucky for the other world without a murmur.

  "'"I regyards this event as a vict'ry for Jackson an' principle," says my grandfather, as he's called on to proceed with his oration, "an' I'd like to say in that connection, if Henry Clay will count his spoons when he next comes sneakin' home from Washin'ton, he'll find he's short Spence Witherspoon."'

  "'Your grandfather's a troo humorist,' says Texas Thompson, as

  Colonel Sterett pauses in them recitals of his to reach the bottle;

  'I looks on that last witticism of his as plumb apt.'

  "'My grandfather,' resoomes Colonel Sterett, after bein' refreshed, 'is as full of fun as money-musk, an' when that audience gets onto the joke in its completeness, the merriment is wide an yooniversal. It's the hit of the barbecue; an' in this way, little by little, my grandfather wins his neighbors to his beliefs, ontil he's got the commoonity all stretched an' hawgtied, an' brands her triumphant for Gen'ral Jackson.'

  "'An' does your own pap follow in the footprints of his old gent, as a convincin' an' determined statesman that a-way?' asks Doc Peets.

  'No,' says Colonel Sterett, 'my own personal parent simmers down a whole lot compared to my grandfather. He don't take his pol'tics so much to heart; his democracy ain't so virulent an' don't strike in. His only firm stand on questions of state, as I relates the other day, is when he insists on bein' nootral doorin' the late war. I explains how he talks federal an' thinks reb, an' manages, that a- way, to promote a decent average.

  "'His nootrality, however, don't incloode the fam'ly none. My brother Jeff—an' I never beholds a haughtier sperit-goes squanderin' off with Morgan at the first boogle call,' "'That raid of Morgan's,' says Enright, his eye brightenin', 'is plumb full of dash an' fire.' "'Shore,' says the Colonel, 'plumb full of dash an' fire. But Jeff tells me of it later, foot by foot, from the time they crosses the river into Injeanny, till they comes squatterin' across at Blennerhasset's Island into Kaintucky ag'in, all' I sadly, though frankly, admits it looks like it possesses some elements of a chicken-stealin' expedition also. Jeff says he never sees so many folks sincere, an' with their minds made up, as him all' Morgan an' the rest of the Bloo Grass chivalry encounters oil that croosade.

  Thar's an uprisin' of the peasantry, Jeff says, whereever they goes; an' then clods pursoocs Jeff an' the others, from start to finish, with hoes an' rakes an' mattocks an' clothes-poles an' puddin'- sticks an' other barbarous an' obsolete arms, an' never lets up ontil Jeff an' Morgan all' their gallant comrades is ag'in safe in the arms of their Kaintucky brethren.

  Their stay in any given spot is trooly brief.

  That town of Cincinnati makes up a bundle of money big enough to choke a cow to give 'em as a ransom; but Jeff an' Morgan never do hear of it for years. They goes by so plumb swift they don't get notice; an' they fades away in the distance so fast they keeps ahead of the news. However, they gets back to Kaintucky safe an' covered with dust an' glory in even parts; an' as for Jeff speshul, as the harvest of his valor, he reports himse'f the owner of a one-sixth interest in a sleigh which him an' five of his indomitable companions has done drug across the river on their return. But they don't linger over this trophy; dooty calls 'em, so they stores the sleigh in a barn an' rides away to further honors.

  "'We never do hear of Jeff none all through that war but once. After he's j'ined Stonewall Jackson, I recalls how he sends home six hundred dollars in confed'rate money with a letter to my father. It runs like this:

  In camp with Stonewall Jackson.

  Respected Sir:

  The slave who bears this will give you from me a treasure of six hundred dollars. I desire that you pay the tavern and whatever creditors of mine you find. To owe debts does not comport with the honor of a cavalier, and I propose to silence all base clamors on that head. I remain, most venerated sir, Yours to command, Jefferson Sterett.

  "'That's the last we-all hears of my sens'tive an' high-sperited brother ontil after Mister Lee surrenders. It's one mornin' when Jeff comes home, an' the manner of his return shorely displays his nobility of soul, that a-way, as ondiscouraged an' ondimmed. No one's lookin' for Jeff partic'lar, when I hears a steamboat whistle for our landin'. I, bein' as I am full of the ontamed cur'osity of yooth, goes curvin' out to see what's up. I hears the pilot give the engineer the bells to set her back. on the sta'board wheel, an' then on both. The boat comes driftin' in. A stagin' is let down, an with the tread of a conqueror who should come ashore but my brother Jeff! Thar's nothin' in his hands; he ain't got nothin' with him that he ain't wearin'. An' all he has on is a old wool hat, a hick'ry shirt, gray trousers, an' a pair of copper-rivet shoes as red as a bay hoss. As he strikes the bank, Jeff turns an' sweeps the scene with the eye of a eagle. Then takin' a bogus silver watch outen his pocket, he w'irls her over his head by the leather string an' lets her go out into the river, ker-chunk!

  "'"Which I enters into this yere rebellion," says Jeff, flashin' a proud, high glance on me where I stands wonderin', "without nothin', an' I proposes to return with honor ontarnished, an' as pore as I goes in."

  "'As me an' Jeff reepairs up to the house, I notes the most renegade-lookin' nigger followin' behind.

  "'"Whoever's dis yere nigger?" I asks.

  "'"He's my valet," says Jeff.

  "'My arm's a heap too slight,' goes on Colonel Sterett, followin' a small libation, 'to strike a blow for the confed'racy, but my soul is shorely in the cause. I does try to j'ine, final, an' is only saved tharfrom, an' from what would, ondoubted, have been my certain death, by a reb gen'ral named Wheeler. He don't mean to do it; she's inadvertent so far as he's concerned; but he saves me jest the same. An' settin' yere as I be, enjoyin' the friendship an' esteem of you- all citizens of Wolfville, I feels more an' more the debt of gratitoode I owes that gallant officer an' man.'

  "'However does this Gen'ral Wheeler save you?' asks Dan Boggs.

  'Which I'm shore eager to hear.'

  "'The tale is simple,' responds the Colonel, 'an' it's a triboote to that brave commander which I'm allers ready to pay. It's in the middle years of the war, an' I'm goin' to school in a village which lies back from the river, an' is about twenty
miles from my ancestral home. Thar's a stockade in the place which some invadin' Yanks has built, an' thar's about twenty of 'em inside, sort o' givin' orders to the village an' makin' its patriotic inhabitants either march or mark time, whichever chances to be their Yankee caprices.

  "'As a troo Southern yooth, who feels for his strugglin' country, I loathes them Yankees to the limit, an' has no more use for 'em than Huggins has for a temp'rance lecturer.

  "'One day a troop of reb cavalry jumps into the village, an' stampedes these yere invaders plumb off the scene. We gets the news up to the school, an' adjourns in a bunch to come down town an' cel'brate the success of the Southern arms. As I arrives at the field of carnage, a reb cavalryman is swingin' outen the saddle. He throws the bridle of his hoss to me.

  "'" See yere, Bud," he says, "hold my hoss a minute while I sees if

  I can't burn this stockade."

  "'I stands thar while the reb fusses away with some pine splinters an' lightwood, strugglin' to inaug'rate a holycaust. He can't make the landin'; them timbers is too green, that a-way.

  "'While I'm standin' thar, lendin' myse'f to this yere conflagratory enterprise, I happens to cast my eyes over on the hills a mile back from the village, an' I'm shocked a whole lot to observe them eminences an' summits is bloo with Yankees comin'. Now I'm a mighty careful boy, an' I don't allow none to let a ragin' clanjamfrey of them Lincoln hirelings caper up on me while I'm holdin' a reb boss. So I calls to this yere incendiary trooper where he's blowin' an' experimentin' an' still failin' with them flames.

  "'" Secesh!" I shouts; "oh, you-all secesh! You'd a mighty sight better come get your hoss, or them Yanks who's bulgin' along over yonder'll spread your hide on the fence."

  "'This reb takes a look at the Yanks, an' then comes an' gets his hoss. As he gathers up the bridle rein an' swings into the saddle, a mad thirst to fight, die an' bleed for my country seizes me, an' I grabs the reb's hoss by the bits an' detains him.

  "'"Say, Mister," I pleads, "why can't you-all take me with you?"

  "'" Which you're a lot too young, son," says the reb, takin' another size-up of the Yanks.

  "'" I ain't so young as I looks," I argues; "I'm jest small of my age."

  "'" Now, I reckons that's so," says the reb, beamin' on me approvin', "an' you're likewise mighty peart. But I'll tell you, Bud, you ain't got no hoss."

  "'"That's nothin'," I responds; "which if you-all will only get me a gun, I can steal a hoss, that a-way, in the first mile."

  "'Seein' me so ready with them argyments, an' so dead pertinacious to go, this yere trooper begins to act oneasy, like his resolootion gets shook some. At last he gridds his teeth together like his mind's made up.

  "'" Look yere, boy," he says, "do you know who our Gen'ral is?"

  "'"No," I says, "I don't."

  "'"Well," says the reb, as he shoves his feet deep in the stirrups, an' settles in his saddle like he's goin' to make some time; "well, he's a ragin' an' onfettered maverick, named Wheeler; an' from the way he goes skallyhootin' 'round, he's goin' to get us all killed or captured before ever we gets back, an' I don't want no chil'en on my hands." "'With that this yere soldier yanks the bridle outen my grasp, claps the steel into his hoss's flanks, an' leaves me like a bullet from a gun. For my part, I stands thar saved; saved, as I says, by that Gen'ral Wheeler's repootation with his men.'"

  CHAPTER XVII.

  Old Man Enright's Love.

  "Son, I'm gettin' plumb alarmed about myse'f," observed the Old Cattleman, as we drew together for our usual talk. "I've been sort o' cog'tatin' tharof, an' I begins to allow I'm a mighty sight too garrulous that a-way. This yere conversation habit is shore growin' on me, an', if I don't watch out, I'm goin' to be a bigger talker than old Vance Groggins,"

  "Was Groggins a great conversationist?" I asked.

  "Does this yere Vance Groggins converse? Which I wish I has stored by a pint of licker for everythin' Vance says! It would be a long spell before ever I'm driven to go ransackin' 'round to find one of them life-savin' stations, called by common consent, a 's'loon!' This Vance don't do nothin' but talk; he's got that much to say, it gets in his way. Vance comes mighty clost to gettin' a heap the worst of it once merely on account of them powers of commoonication.

  "You see, this yere Vance is a broke-down sport, an' is dealin' faro-bank for Jess Jenkins over on the Canadian. An' Vance jest can't resist takin' part in every conversation that's started. Let two gents across the layout go to exchangin' views, or swappin' observations, an' you can gamble that Vance comes jimmin' along in. An' Vance is allers tellin' about his brother Abe. Does a gent mention that he brands eight hundred calves that spring round-up, Vance cuts in with the bluff that his brother Abe brands twelve hundred; does a sport su'gest that he sees a party win four thousand dollars ag'in monte or roulette or faro or some sech amoosement, Vance gets thar prompt with some ranikaboo relations of a time when his brother Abe goes ag'inst Whitey Bob at Wichita, makes a killin' of over sixty thousand dollars, an' breaks the bank.

  "'My brother Abe,' says this yere scand'lous Vance that a-way, 'jest nacherally wins the kyarpets off Whitey Bob's floor.'

  "Son, it's simple egreegious the way this Vance carries on in them fool rev'lations touchin' his brother Abe.

  "It gets so, final, that a passel of sports lodges complaints with

  Jenkins. 'What's the use!' says them maddened sports to Jenkins.

  'This Vance don't deal faro-bank; he jest don't do nothin' but talk.

  Thar we sets, our bets on the layout, an' we don't get no action.

  This Vance won't deal a kyard for fear we don't hear about that

  brother Abe Groggins of his'n.'

  "Them criticisms makes Jenkins plenty quer'lous. He rounds Vance up an' curries him a whole lot. Then he tells Vance to pull his freight; he don't want him to deal faro-bank for him no more.

  "At this, Vance turns plumb piteous, an' asks Jenkins not to throw him loose, that a-way. An' he promises to re-organize an' alter his system. 'I knows my failin's,' says Vance a heap mournful. 'You don't have to come 'round tauntin' me with 'em; I'm dead onto 'em myse'f. I'm too frank an' I'm too sociable; I'm too prone to regale my fellow gents with leafs from my experience; an' I realize, as well as you do, Jenk, it's wrong. Shorely, I've no right to stop in the middle of a deal to tell a story an' force the hopes an' fears, not to say the fortunes, of a half-dozen intense sports, an' some of 'em in the hole at that, to wait till I gets through! I know it ain't right, Jenk; but I promises you, if you'll let me go behind the box ag'in to-night, on the honor of a kyard sharp, you-all will never hear a yelp outen me from soda to hock. An' that's whatever!"

  "'It ain't not alone that you talks forever,' remonstrates Jenkins; 'but it's them frightful lies you tells. Which they're enough to onsettle a gent's play, to say nothin' of runnin' the resk of raisin' a hoodoo an' queerin' my bank. But I tries you once more, Vance; only get it straight: So shore as ever you takes to onloadin' on the company one of them exaggerations about that felon Abe, I won't say "Go," I'll jest onlimber an' burn the moccasins off you with my gun.'

  "It's that very night; Vance has been dealin' the game for mighty likely it's three hours, an' no one gets a verbal rise outen him more'n if he's a graven image. Vance is gettin' proud of himse'f, an' Jenkins, who comes prowlin' 'round the game at times, begins to reckon mebby Vance'll do. All goes well ontil a party lets fly some hyperbole about a tavern he strikes in Little Rock, which for size an' extensif characteristics lays over anythin' on earth like a summer's cloud.

  "'You thinks so?' says Vance, stoppin' the deal, an' leanin' a elbow on the box, while he goes projectin' towards the countenance of the Little Rock party with the forefinger of his other hand, kind o' claimin' his attention. 'You thinks so! I allows now you-all reckons that for a hotel, this yere Little Rock edifice is the old he-coon! Let me tell you somethin': My brother Abe goes out to one of them bathin' camps, swept by ocean breezes, on the Pacific slope, an' you should shorely oug
hter behold the joint he slams up! Pards, thar's more than two thousand rooms in that wickeyup! It's 'leven hundred an' twelve foot high, four thousand two hundred an' fifty-four foot long, an'—' It's here pore Vance catches Jenkins' eye glarin' on him hard an' remorseless—'an' twenty foot wide,' says Vance, a heap hurried, dashin' the kyards outen the box. 'Five lose, jack win,' concloodes Vance confoosedly, makin' a hasty change of subjects.

  "Yes, indeed!" and the old gentleman looked thoughtfully across the lawn as he wound up his tale of the unfortunate Groggins, "Yes, indeed If I keeps on talkin' away, I'll become a laughin'-stock, same as that locoed Vance! Thar's one matter that allers imbues me with a heap of respect for deef an' dumb folks; which they shorely do keep things to themse'fs a whole lot."