She wasn’t hangin’ on to the side of her hoss, no, ma’am! She was ridin’ the prettiest kind of a bronc, fat and sassy. And she was settin’ a-straddle, straight and graceful, in a spick-and-span new suit, and a three-cornered hat like George Washington.
I let out a yell that would ’a’ raised the hair of a reservation Injun. “Macie Sewell!” I says–just like that. I give my blamed little nag a hit that put her into her jerky trot. And I come ’longside, humpin’ like Sam Hill.
She pulled her hoss down to a standstill; and them long eye-winkers of hern lifted straight up into the air, she was so surprised. “Alec!” she says.
“Yas, Alec,” I answers. “Aw, dear little gal, is y’ glad t’ see me?”
“Wal, what ’re you doin’ here!” she goes on. “I cain’t hardly believe what I see.”
I was so blamed flustered, and so happy, and so–so scairt, that I had t’ go say the one thing that was plumb foolish. “I’m on hand t’ take you back home if you’re ready,” I answers. (Hole on till I give myself another good, ten-hoss-power kick!)
Up till now, her look ’d been all friendly enough. But now of a suddent it got cold and offish. “Take me home!” she begun; “home! Wal, I like that! Why, I’m just about t’ make a great, big success, yas. And I’ll thank you not t’ spoil my chanst with any more of you’ tricks.” She swung her bronc round into the trail.
“Macie! Spoil you’ chanst!” I answers. “Why, honey, I wouldn’t do that. I only want t’ be friends––”
Her eyes can give out fire just like her paw’s. And when I said that, she give me one turrible mad stare. Then, she throwed up her chin, spurred her bronc, and went trottin’ off, a-humpin’ the same as the rest of the ladies.
I follered after her as fast as I could. “Macie,” I says, “talk ain’t goin’ t’ show you how I feel. And I’ll not speak to you again till you want me to. But I’ll allus be clost by. And if ever you need me––”