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And he beat vigorously on a pan to attract the attention of all hearers. "Gen'lemen. O-oh, gen'lemen!" he cried, at the top of his lungs. "Now fo' a great ole gander-pullin'! De only one we've had in dis settle-ment fo' t'ree year. Every gen'leman as craves to enter dis gander-pullin' will kin'ly ride up here and de-posit a quarter 'f a dollar.
But I don't go; old Hickey excloodes me, an' my hopes of moosical eminence rots down right thar. "'It's mebby two days later when I'm over by the postoffice gettin' the weekly paper for my old gent. Thar's goin' to be a Gander-Pullin' by torchlight that evenin' over to Hickman's Mills with a dance at the heel of the hunt. But I ain't allowin' to be present none.
Then he'd hang by his chin an' beat his wings; an' it's these frenzied efforts he makes to stay with the game that evolves them alarmin' flutterin's. "'Jule who don't own chickens an' who ain't no patron of cockfights neither is for settin' the shawl-necks on the fence an' pickin' 'em up as we trails back from the Gander-Pullin'.
"'On the evenin' of this yer dance an' Gander-Pullin' I'm pirootin' about the Center when I meets up with Jule James; Jule bein' the village belle. "Goin' to the dance?" says Jule. "No," says I. "Why ever don't you go?" asks Jule. "Thar ain't no girl weak-minded enough to go with me," I replies; "I makes a bid for two or three but gets the mitten." This yere last is a bluff.
""You're a fine Injun to take a girl to a dance!" says Jule at last, an' she's full of scorn. ""Injun or no Injun," I retorts a heap sullen, "thar ain't no Gander-Pullin' goin' to jestify me in abandonin' my 'leven shawl-necks an' me with a main to fight next month over on the Little Bloo!"
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