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Updated: June 16, 2025
You see, I heerd her an' Wambush a-talkin' on the back porch when I went out thar to draw up a bucket o' water. The rope had got tangled somehow, an' I had to fix it, an' while I was doin' of it I couldn't help heerin' what they said, beca'se Toot wus as mad as a wet hen, an' didn't keer a dern who heerd 'im." "Mad at her?" ejaculated Westerfelt.
Are you a raving maniac? I never did anything like that. Toot Wambush was writing about Hettie Fergusson. She is his sweetheart; she helped him hide the barrel of whiskey in the kitchen. Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, was that what you've been thinking all this time?" A great joy had illuminated his face, and he grasped her hands and clung to them. "Harriet, I see it all now; can you ever forgive me?"
Ah, how sweet that was to remember! and yet the same creature had loved a man no higher than Wambush; had even sobbed out a confession of her love in the arms of his father. Such was the woman, but he loved her with the first real love of his life.
"S'arch them bags," ordered the leader, "an' ef he makes anuther budge before it's done, or opens his mouth fer a whisper, drag 'im right down an' give 'im 'is deserts." Wambush offered no further resistance. Hunter fumbled in the bags. He held up a quart flask of corn whiskey over his head, shook it in the moonlight, and then restored it.
He noticed that she did not leave off her final g's, and that she spoke more clearly and correctly than the others. He concluded that she must have received a better education than the average young lady in that section. The dance was nearly ended when Westerfelt saw Wambush bend over and whisper something to her.
"I reckon yore doctor bill run up to some more'n you'd 'a' lost that day by jest lettin' my boy have some'n to ride out home in." "Dry up!" thundered old Wambush. He climbed back into his chair and glared at her. "Ef you dare open yore mouth agin, I'll make you git right out an' make tracks fer home." The old woman jerked on her bonnet and turned her face towards the horses.
Bill Washburn 'lowed he had orders from you not to let me have anything out'n yore shebang; is that so?" "I'd rather not talk business here," replied Westerfelt. He rose and coolly looked Wambush in the face. "If you say so, we'll walk across to the stable." "No," sneered Wambush, "this heer's good enough fur me; I hain't got no secrets frum them mount'in men out thar nur this young lady.
Ef you ever want to run fer office all you got to do is to announce yorese'f. Old Hunter wus down at Bill Stone's this mornin' as we passed buyin' his fine hoss to replace yore'n." "I reckon they've run Toot Wambush clean off," put in Mrs. Bradley, looking significantly at Harriet. She expected the girl to reply, but Harriet only avoided her glance. Mrs.
"Here, thar, you jail-bird, yore wanted!" cried out the leader. "Stop that infernal racket!" "What is it?" asked Wambush, riding back among his fellows. "Toot Wambush!" Harriet repeated. He looked up at her. "What do you want?" he asked, doggedly, after gazing up at her steadily for a moment. "Get away as fast as you can," she replied. "His wound has broke again. He's bleeding to death!"
Just then Harriet and her friends passed, and Westerfelt saw the girl looking inquiringly at Mrs. Dawson. He heard the old woman grunt contemptuously, and saw her toss her head and fiercely eye Harriet from head to foot as she went down the aisle. Westerfelt shuddered. He wondered if the old woman could possibly know of Harriet's past connection with Wambush and her girlish infatuation.
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