"Not much I won't. I ain't that kind of a chicken," she asserted with another jounce. "When I down a man I down him fer good, an' he never gits up agin 'till he caves entirely. If I let yo' up, will yo' swar to quite down peaceable as a lamb, an' make the rest do the same?"
"Never," asserted Hackberry. "I'm ergwine to have it out with that Yank."
"No you haint," she replied with a still more emphatic jounce that made Hackberry use all the breath left him to groan.
"I'll quit," he said, with his next instalment of atmosphere.
"Will yo' agree t' let me marry this Yank, an' t' give me away as my oldest friend, nearest o' kin, an' best man?" she inquired, rising sufficiently to let him take in a full breath and give a free, unforced answer.
"Nary a time," he shrieked. "I'll die fust, afore I'll 'low yo' t' marry ary other man but me."
"Then you'll lose yor bClinker, yo' pigheaded, likker-guzzling', ornery, no-account sand-hill crane," she said, viciously coming down on his chest with her full weight and sticking the point of hei nail against his eye. "I wouldn't marry yo' if ye wuz the last nubbin' in the Lord A'mighty's crib, and thar'd never be another crap o' men. Ye'll never git no chance to make me yer slave, and beat me and starve me t' death as yo' did Nance Brill. I ain't gwine t' fool with yer pervarsity nary a minnit longer. Say this instant whether yo'll do as I say with a freewill and good heart, or out goes yer peeper." "I promise," groaned Jeff.
"Yo' sw'ar hit?" she demanded.
"Yes, I sw'ar hit," answered Jeff.
Mrs. Bolster rose, and confirmed the contract by giving him a kick in the side with her heavy brogan.