Er when the lightnin' 's struck some hare-brained harvest-hand; er in
Some 'tempt o' suicidin'—where they'd ort to try ag'in!
I've knowed Doc haul up from a trot and talk a' hour er two
When railly he'd a-ort o' not a-stopped fer "Howdy-do!"
VII
And then, I've met him 'long the road, a-lopin',—starin' straight
Ahead,—and yit he never knowed me when I hollered "Yate,
Old Saddlebags!" all hearty-like, er "Who you goin' to kill?"
And he'd say nothin'—only hike on faster, starin' still!
VIII
I'd bin insulted, many a time, ef I jes wuzn't shore
Doc didn't mean a thing. And I'm not tetchy any more
Sence that-air day, ef he'd a-jes a-stopped to jaw with me,
They'd bin a little dorter less in my own fambily!
IX
Times now, at home, when Sifers' name comes up, I jes let on,
You know, 'at I think Doc's to blame, the way he's bin and gone
And disapp'inted folks—'Ll-jee-mun-nee! you'd ort to then
Jes hear my wife light into me—"ongratefulest o' men!"
