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Updated: June 25, 2025
I've known birds, says I, 'to be served on toast for less than that. Miss Willella, says I, 'don't ever want any nest made out of sheep's wool by a tomtit of the Jacksonian branch of ornithology. Now, are you going to quit, or do you wish for to gallop up against this Dead-Moral-Certainty attachment to my name, which is good for two hyphens and at least one set of funeral obsequies?
Is old Bill going to ship beeves to Kansas City again this spring, Jud? "That was all the pancake specifications I could get that night. I didn't wonder that Jackson Bird found it uphill work. So I dropped the subject and talked with Uncle Emsley for a while about hollow-horn and cyclones. And then Miss Willella came and said 'Good-night, and I hit the breeze for the ranch.
I never could understand why some men who can break a mustang before breakfast and shave in the dark, get all left-handed and full of perspiration and excuses when they see a bolt of calico draped around what belongs to it. Inside of eight minutes me and Miss Willella was aggravating the croquet balls around as amiable as second cousins.
Jackson said that whenever you got overhot or excited that wound hurt you and made you kind of crazy, and you went raving about pancakes. He told us to just get you worked off of the subject and soothed down, and you wouldn't be dangerous. So, me and Willella done the best by you we knew how. Well, well, says Uncle Emsley, 'that Jackson Bird is sure a seldom kind of a snoozer."
Jackson Bird has been courting Willella ever since that day he took her out riding. "'Then, says I, in a kind of yell, 'what was all this zizzaparoola he gives me about pancakes? Tell me /that/. "When I said 'pancakes' Uncle Emsley sort of dodged and stepped back. "'Somebody's been dealing me pancakes from the bottom of the deck, I says, 'and I'll find out. I believe you know.
I rode over to see her once every week for a while; and then I figured it out that if I doubled the number of trips I would see her twice as often. "One week I slipped in a third trip; and that's where the pancakes and the pink-eyed snoozer busted into the game. "That evening, while I set on the counter with a peach and two damsons in my mouth, I asked Uncle Emsley how Miss Willella was.
"No, not a story," said Jud, as he worked, "but just the logical disclosures in the case of me and that pink-eyed snoozer from Mired Mule Cañada and Miss Willella Learight. I don't mind telling you.
One of us is bound to get a rope over its horns before long. Well, so- long, Jacksy. "You see, by this time we were on the peacefullest of terms. When I saw that he wasn't after Miss Willella, I had more endurable contemplations of that sandy-haired snoozer. In order to help out the ambitions of his appetite I kept on trying to get that receipt from Miss Willella.
Jackson Bird told me he was calling on Miss Willella for the purpose of finding out her system of producing pancakes, and he asked me to help him get the bill of lading of the ingredients. I done so, with the results as you see. Have I been sodded down with Johnson grass by a pink-eyed snoozer, or what? "'Slack up your grip in my dress shirt, says Uncle Emsley, 'and I'll tell you.
Talk up, says I, 'or we'll mix a panful of batter right here. "I slid over the counter after Uncle Emsley. He grabbed at his gun, but it was in a drawer, and he missed it two inches. I got him by the front of his shirt and shoved him in a corner. "'Talk pancakes, says I, 'or be made into one. Does Miss Willella make 'em?
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