“What if I do?”
“Prithee, don’t, dear Neddie,” begged the teasing girl. “We’ve heard you make the attempt before. You escaped with your life on that occasion, but remember it was in a comparatively ‘tame’ country.
“This is the wild and woolly West. They hang people here for horse-stealing—and perhaps for eating with their knives, I don’t know! At any rate, Lance Petterby tells me that many of the ‘old-timers’ shoot from the hip, and without much provocation. Your sweet young life may be snuffed out, Neddie, if you try to sing, by some native with an ear for music.”
“Ha, ha!” cried Nat. “Old Ned’s like the minister they tell about who was called to a new pastorate. One of the members of the new church asked a friend of the minister if he was a good man.
“‘He is a very good man,’ agreed the minister’s friend.
“‘Well, what are his faults? He must have some fault?’ said the curious one.
“‘Since you press me,’ said the other, ‘I know of but one grave fault in your new minister.’
“So the man asked him what that fault was. ‘He doesn’t know how to sing,’ declared the candid friend.
“‘Well, that’s not a very serious fault,’ said the anxious one, much relieved.
“‘No,’ was the reply; ‘but, you see, he sings just the same as if he did know.’”