We-all on our parts is viewin' him over a heap
respectful, an' ain't retortin' a word. Then he begins ag'in with a
yelp that would stampede a field of corn.
"'"Who is thar lovelier than Polly Hawks!" he shouts. "Show me the
female more entrancin', an' let me drop dead at her feet! Who is
lovelier than Polly Hawks, the sweetheart of Flyin' Bison, the
onchained tornado of the hills! Feast your gaze on Polly Hawks; her
beauty would melt the heart of Nacher! I'm the Purple Blossom of
Gingham Mountain; Polly Hawks shall marry an' follow me to my
wigwam! Her bed shall be of b'ar-skins; her food shall be yearlin'
venison, an' wild honey from the tree! Her gown shall be panther's
pelts fringed 'round with wolf-tails an' eagles' claws! She shall
belt herse'f with a rattlesnake, an' her Sunday bonnet shall be a
swarm of bees! When I kiss her it sounds like the crack of a whip,
an' I wouldn't part with her for twenty cows! We will wed an'
pop'late the earth with terror! Where is the sooicide who'll stand
in my way?"
"'At this p'int the Purple Blossom leaves off dancin' an' fronts up
to me, personal.
"'"Whoopee!" he says; "say that you don't love the girl an' I'll
give you one hundred dollars before I spills your life!"
"'Which, of course, all these yere moosical an' terpshicoreen
preeliminaries means simply so much war between me an' this sperited
beau of Polly's, to see who'll own the lady's heart.
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