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"Well, lem'me see," said Miss Samantha, counting on her fingers "a biled mackrel, some fried bacon, two pones of corn bread kinder forced it down." "Ur-huh " said Jud, thoughtfully "of course you had to drink, too." "Yes" whined Miss Samantha woefully "two glasses of buttermilk." Jud elevated his eyebrows "An' for dinner?" "O, Lor'. Jes' cu'dn't eat nothin' fur dinner," she wailed.
The full moon quit 'fectin' him he even quit eatin' biscuits. Then the spell commenced to come onct a year an' he cu'dn't pass over blackberry winter to save his life.
Fwhativer sort av a gun-artist is ut that even allowin' for th' moonlight can pick a man off thru' th' head wid a revolver at this distance? . . . an' wan shell on'y? . . . 'Soapy Smith' himself cu'dn't have beat this!" He proceeded to sift some fine, crisp snow in one of the imprints, then, producing an old letter from his pocket, he flattened out the type-written sheets of foolscap therein.
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