"Well, it air like this. I been askin' 'er to marry me ever since she were sixteen year old, but she wouldn't while her daddy were alive. Then once she says to me, 'Sandy, you go git Andy Bishop an' git that five thousand, an' come back here.' Now I got the cash. I air a goin' to git the girl."
"Mebbe she's foolin' ye," suggested Brewer. "Ye see, she had the dwarf the hull time! Looks to me as if she'd put one over on ye."
"She'd better not try anythin' on me," returned Letts, snapping his teeth.
"I heard 'er tell ye once," put in Brewer, "she wouldn't marry ye ... the day ye shot yer leg up."
Sandy cocked the new hat on the side of his head, picked up his bundle, and went to the open door.
"I'd a had 'er afore now if ye'd kept yer hands to hum, Jake," he stated. "But I ain't holdin' up anythin' against ye for what ye done. Now I got money, Tess'll be all the gladder. I air goin' to take 'er over to Seneca Lake. I got a job on there. Good-bye, folks. Mebbe me an' my woman'll drop in an' see ye some day."
The husband and wife watched the big squatter going down the rock path, the tissue-wrapped flowers in his hand, then looked at each other and laughed in perfect comprehension.
"I wonder if he gets 'er," chuckled Mrs. Brewer.
"I'll bet a bullhead he don't," grinned Jake.