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Jest before he arrives, Enright advises the pinfeather person an' the bride Abby, to go camp in the r'ar room so the sudden sight of 'em won't exasp'rate this parent Glegg to madness.
Yere's the first verse: I'd drink an' sw'ar an' r'ar an' t'ar An' fall down in the mud, While the y'earth for forty miles about Is kivered with my blood. "'You-all can see from that speciment that our schoolmaster ain't simply flirtin' with the muses when he originates that epic; no sir, he means business; an' whenever I throws it into the selectmen, I does it jestice.
She warn't used to hard work, Miss Vi warn't, and the Widder Atkinson would have killed a horse. When Miss Vi took to doing turns at Jake's instead, the Widder 'lowed she was no better than she'd ought to've been, and near got lynched in consequence. You've only got to mention Miss Vi to her even now to have her r'ar right up on her hind legs. She wouldn't tell you nothing if she could."
At last we're onder headway ag'in, an' I wades back through the snow to my amb'lance. "'As I arrives at the r'ar of my offishul waggon, it occurs to me that I'll fill a pipe an' smoke some by virchoo of my nerves, the same bein' torn and frayed with the many exasperations of the day. I gives my driver the word to wait a bit, an' searchin' forth my tobacco outfit loads an' lights my pipe.
Jerry, when he notices I don't refer to him partic'lar lays his y'ears back; an' although his r'ar elevation is towards me I can see he's hotter than a hornet. The faithful Tom abides with Jerry; though he tells him it's feed time an' that the others with a nosebag on each of 'em is already at their repasts. Jerry only gets madder an' lays for Tom an' tries to bite him.
As I exhales my first puff of smoke and is on the verge of tellin' my driver to pull out this yere mule-skinner is settin' so that matters to the r'ar is cut off from his gaze by the canvas cover of my waggon a slight noise attracts me, an' castin' my eye along the trail we've been climbin', I notes with feelin's of disgust a full dozen Apaches comin'. An' it ain't no hyperbole to say they're shore comin' all spraddled out.
Den dey hear de little bird singin', en dish yer's de song w'at he sing: "'Spit in yo' han's en tug it en toll it, En git behime it, en push it, en pole it; Spit in yo' han's en r'ar back en roll it. "En des 'bout de time dey got de wood on de fier, der daddy, he come skippin' in, en de little bird, he flew'd away.
Jest as I turns my back, thar's the crack! of a rifle to the r'ar of the j'int, an' Hardrobe pitches onto the floor as dead as ever transpires in that tribe. In the back door, with one arm in a sling, an' a gun that still smokes, ca'm an' onmoved like Injuns allers is, stands Bloojacket. "'My hand is forced, he says, as he passes me his gun; 'it's him or me!
"Toothpick stoops down for the Red Dog man's gun, an' what do you- all think? He don't have no weapon, none whatever; nothin' more vig'rous than a peaceful flask of whiskey, which the same is still all safe in his r'ar pocket. "'He warn't heeled! says Toothpick, straightenin' up an' lookin' at us apol'getic an' disgusted.
"'Don't go near him, Colonel, says I; 'an' partic'lar don't go crowdin' 'round to get no r'ar views of him. You-all has no idee of the radius of that mule; what you might call his sweep. You never will till he's kicked you once or twice, an' the information ain't worth no sech price. So I don't reckon I'd fool with him, none whatever.
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