I got outen that winda and onto my feet. “Judge,” I calls, puttin’ up one hand to show him who was a-talkin’, “here’s eight dollars fer you’ rat-pizen. And you can chalk down forty votes fer Miss Macie Sewell.”
Say! cain’t you hear them Bar Y punchers?–“Yip! yip! yip! yip! yip! yip! ye-e-e!” A-course all the other punchers, they hollered, too. And whilst we was yellin’, that tenderfoot from Noo York was a-jabberin’ to Macie, mad like, and scowlin’ over my way. And she? Wal, she was laughin’, and blushin’, and shakin’ that pretty haid of hern–at me!
I was so excited I didn’t know whether I was a-foot ’r a-hoss-back. But I knowed enough to buy, all right. Wal, that medicine went like hotcakes! I blowed myself, and Hairoil blowed his-self, and the Bar Y boys cleaned they pockets till the bottles was piled up knee-high byside the benches. And whilst we shelled out, the Judge kept on a-goin’ like he’d been wound up–“Here’s another feller that wants Root-ee! and here’s another over on this side! And, lady, it’ll be good fer you, too, yas, ma’am. The Blackfoot Injun Rootee, my friends, the Pain Balm, the Cough Balsam, the Magic Salve, and the Worm Destroyer,–the fi-i-ive remedies fer two dollars!”
When I come to, a little bit later on, the hall was just about empty, and Hairoil was pullin’ me by the arm to git me to move. I looked ’round fer Macie Sewell. She was gone, and so was the Doc and Billy Trowbridge and Rose and Up-State. Outside, right under my window, I ketched sight of a white dress a-goin’ past. It was her. “Macie,” I whispers to myself; “Macie Sewell.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I was upset kinda, and just crazy with thinkin’ how I’d help her to win out. And I made up my mind t’ this: If more votes come in fer Mollie Brown than they did fer the gal that oughta have ’em, why, I’d just shove a gun under that Judge’s nose and tell him to “count ’em over and count ’em right.” ’Cause, I figgered, no eatin’-house gal with a face like a flat-car was a-goin’ to be elected the prettiest gal of Briggs. Not if I seen myself, no, ma’am. ’Specially not whilst Sewell’s little gal was in the country. Anybody could pick her fer the winner if they had on blinders. “Cupid,” I says, “you hump you’self!”
Next day, the Judge, he give consultin’s in the eatin’-house sample-room. I went over and had a talk with him, tellin’ him just how I wanted that votin’ contest to go. He said he wisht me luck, but that if the railroad boys felt they needed his medicine, he didn’t believe he had no right to keep ’em from buyin’. And, a-course, when a feller made a buy, he wanted t’ vote like he pleased. Said the best thing was t’ git holt of folks that ’d met Miss Sewell and liked her, ’r wanted t’ work fer her ole man, ’r ’d just as lief do me a good turn.
I hunted up Billy. “Doc,” I says, “I hope Briggs ain’t a-goin’ to name that Brown waitress fer its best sample. Now––”
“Aw, wal,” says Billy, “think how it ’d tickle her!”
“Tickle some other gal just as much,” I says.
“And the prettiest gal ought to be choosed. Now, it could be fixed–easy.”