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Updated: June 26, 2025
"I mean that the Rose Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, Jack Summers, President and General Manager, don't belong to us and never did. We been sellin' stock that ain't ours and never was." "How's that?" "I was goin' to write. But I ain't no hand to write about business. Writin' po'try is bad enough. You recollec' them papers and that dust Billy tried to find, out there by the track?" "Yes."
But give me a good feed and turn me loose in the Big Show Pasture where the Bridal Veil is weepin' jealous of the Cathedral Spires, and the Big Trees is too big to be jealous of anything, where Adam would 'a' felt old the day he was born jest take off my hobbles and turn me out to graze there, and feed, and say, lady, I scorn the idea of doin' anything but decomposin' my feelin's and smokin' and writin' po'try.
If yo' all want to know my honest opinion, Mary V's plumb sore because yo' all made up po'try about Venus instid of about her." He sat down on a corner of the littered table and began to roll a cigarette, jerking his head towards the bungalow and lowering one eyelid slowly. "Girls, I'm plumb next to 'em, Skyrider. I growed up with four of 'em.
"John Corliss." "Gee Gosh! I knowed when I et that rabbit this mornin' that somethin' was goin' to happen. Thought it was po'try, but I was mistook." "So you ate your half of the rabbit this morning, eh?" "Sure!! " "And you gave me the rest. You sure are loco." "Mebby I be. Anyhow, I'm used to bein' hungry. They ain't so much of me to keep as you crossways, I mean. Of course, up and down "
Tex caught the boot dexterously without interrupting his song, except that he forgot the words and sang ta-da-da-da to the end of the verse. "Po'try was wrote to be read," he replied sententiously when he had finished. "And tunes was made to be sung. And yo' all oughta be proud to death at the way yo' all made a hit with yore po'try. It beats what Mary V wrote, Skyrider.
"Them there true-be-doors," he muttered, "like Billy used to say, sure had the glad job singin' and wrastlin' out po'try galore! A singin'-man sure gets the ladies. Now if I was to take on a little weight mebby . . ." His weird soliloquy was broken by a sharp and excited bark. Chance was standing in the trail, and beyond him there was something . . .
And speakin' of po'try, I reckon I got to go feed them pigs. They's gruntin' somethin' scand'lous for havin' comp'ny to our house and anyhow, they's like to wake up leetle Bill." And Sundown departed to feed his pigs. "As for that," said John Corliss, gazing out across the mesa, "Loring and I shook hands over the line fence. That's settled." Sundown had just dismounted.
"Well, I declare, Mary Richards, you ain't no great hand to talk, but when you do, you just do it beautiful; now don't she, Jennie? That's the po'tryest talkin' I've heard this long while, real live po'try, if there ain't no jingle about it.
P'r'aps yer surprised at hearing me speak o' my own flesh and blood ez if I was talkin' hoss-trade, but you and me is bus'ness men, Mr. Renshaw, and we discusses ez such. We ain't goin' to slosh round and slop over in po'try and sentiment," continued Nott, with a tremulous voice, and a hand that slightly shook on Renshaw's shoulder.
"I can't take it with me, for it would be a bother, an' if it tried to spout po'try, I'd be discovered in a jiffy." As the beautiful Witch kissed the little girl goodbye, she slipped upon her finger a curious ring. At once, Button-Bright exclaimed, "Why, where has she gone?" "I'm right here," said Trot's voice by his side. "Can't you see me?" "No," replied the boy, mystified. Rosalie laughed.
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