Ira gave voice to a remark in keeping with the occasion. Then said, “What’s a fool creetur like me to do? I can’t lay ’round here and play huntin’ dog to ary ole varmint like Jabe; I’m natchelly obleeged to go jine the boys.”
“Wel, ain’t ye a purty little feller?” said Bud, sneeringly. “Ain’t ye got a tongue in yer head? What’s the matter with yer speakin’ out? I been a-knowin’ this long time how the land lay. You shorely air gittin’ weakly all of a suddent. Ye ain’t afraid o’ painters, ner Injuns, ner bullets. What’s got ye?”
“No, I ain’t skeered o’ none o’ them things, but a female woman’s differnt. Painters springs at ye, Injuns sneaks on ye, bullets comes a whizzin’, but a female woman jest backs away an’ ye don’t know how far she’s goin’ ter git. You feels fer yer weepon an’ it ain’t thar. You kin reach down an’ pull a bunch o’ grass fer a mare, er put yer hand in yer pocket an’ git out a lump o’ sugar fer her, but how ye goin’ ter tole a female woman?”
“Ye ain’t never done it, I suppose,” said Bud, sarcastically.
“Not this variety,” replied Ira.
Bud threw back his head and gave vent to boisterous mirth. “Ye’re ketched fer shore, this time, an’ by a red head, too. I ain’t never seen nothin’ to skeer anybody in Lou Sparks. All ye got ter do is ter buckle up and throw out yer purtiest talk.”
“Think so?”
“I know so.”
But Ira’s timidity increased with his ardor, and up to the time of his departure he had spoken not a word of love to the object of his affections. On the day that he made his adieux he went so far as to say: “Ye won’t spring a surprise on us boys an’ go git married before we come back from the war, will ye, Louisy?”
“No, indeed,” she answered, emphatically. “I ain’t goin’ to leave dad yet awhile. I ain’t had him long enough to do that.”