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I cetch um." "The marshals won't allow you to shoot, Bismarck," observed Presley, looking at Minna. Hooven doubled up with merriment. "Ho! dot's hell of some fine joak. Me, I'M ONE OAF DOSE MAIRSCHELL MINE-SELLUF," he roared with delight, beating his knee. To his notion, the joke was irresistible. All day long, he could be heard repeating it.
"Und Mist'r Praicelie, he say, 'Dose mairschell woand led you schoot, Bismarck, und ME, ach Gott, ME, aindt I mine-selluf one oaf dose mairschell?" As the two friends rode on, Presley had in his mind the image of Minna Hooven, very pretty in a clean gown of pink gingham, a cheap straw sailor hat from a Bonneville store on her blue black hair.
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