A death-like stillness prevailed.
The cold perspiration stood out on my forehead in big drops.
Something about the size of a watermelon appeared to be in my throat.
I feared the sound of my own voice. My knees were weak, and knocking together.
I looked over my audience the second time, and was about to venture to say something, when I happened to think that I hadn't taken off my cuffs and collar, and proceeded to do so, when to my horror I heard a young man in the audience say, in a tone loud enough for all to hear:
"You bet yer life he is fixing to give us the biggest game of talk we ever heard."
It was then I realized that the great preparations I had been making, and the knowing looks I had been giving, had only confirmed their supposition that I was certainly capable of doing credit to such a complete and pretentious turn-out.
Could I have lassoed and hung that fellow to the nearest tree, I would gladly have done so; for it seemed to almost completely demoralize me and unfit me for the occasion. And I would have given ten times the price of the whole outfit could I have been spirited away forty miles.
I again discovered myself perspiring more freely than ever. I had fixed the torches several times, had gone through the entire stock of goods three or four times, and had taken off every article of clothing that I dared to, all with the vain hope that something would occur to break the horrid stillness. Such was not the case, however. The eyes of every one were centered upon me—those of the proprietor and musicians as well as the audience.
When finally ready to begin my speech, I suddenly discovered that I couldn't recall a single word that I had so carefully prepared for the occasion.