“And that I shore will do,” chuckled the cowboy, as they jogged on again. “I plumb believe the whole county will laugh to-morrer—that is, if Colt carries it through.”
“Carries what through?” demanded Tavia, sharply.
“Did yuh see that feller an’ gal?” began Lance, in his slow drawl. “That thar is Jim Colt and Peleg Crater’s darter, Molly. Peleg’s a pizen critter as ever was; but Molly’s jest as sweet an’ purty as a May mawnin’—an’ that’s goin’ some.
“Wal, this here Jim Colt has been sparkin’ on Molly for a dawg’s age—yes, Ma’am! That pizen critter, Peleg, done drove him off his farm—Peleg’s a nestor—time an’ time ag’in. Ain’t a single livin’ thing the matter with the boy; but Peleg don’t wanter lose his housekeeper. Works that Molly gal like a reg’lar slave.
“Wal! the last time, I hear, Peleg chased Colt with a shotgun, and purt’ nigh blowed the boy as full of holes as a colander.”
“How awful!” gasped Dorothy.
“What larks!” was Tavia’s comment.
“Guess the smell o’ powder sort o’ put spunk intuh Colt. He’s got th’ gal tuh-night and they’re racin’ for a parson.”
“To get married?” cried Dorothy.