"Oh, that's all right, then," she said as though she answered me, and frank as a man she gave her hand to shake. "Good stunt of mine, eh? Although I own I'd like to have that cross stage-managed."
She passed the weather, admired Tiger, talked Browns and Joneses with Bull, turning her back on me, asked him to supper, walked off with him, an' that's all. Egg-shells throw'd in the ash-heap may feel like I did then.
Nobody loved me, 'cept our pony herd, inquirin' piteous for food an' water. A widow O'Flynn fed me supper, her grub bein' so scarce and bad, poor soul, she had to charge a dollar to make it pay. She kep' a wooden leg, and a small son. Our boys, of course, was drunk by then, just sleepin' whar they'd fell, so I was desolate as a moonlit dog-howl, ridin' herd with my night horse whar Polly's little home glowed lights across the prairie. I seen Bull and the preacher leave there on toward midnight, walkin' sort of extravagant into town. The lights went out. Then times I'd take some sleep, or times ride herd guarding her little house, till the cold came, till the dawn broke, till the sun came up.
It was half past breakfast when I seen Bull again, on his knees like yesterday, a-puttin' up loud prayers, which made me sick. "Rehearsin'," says he, "'cause Polly's struck, and I'm to be chief mourner."
He was my only chance of meetin' Miss Polly agen, so I was leadin' the talk around, when a guy comes butting into our conversation. He'd puffed sleeves to his pants, and was all dressed saucy, standing straddle, aiming to impress. "Oh, whar's my gun?" says Bull.
This person owned to being a gentleman, with a strong English accent. He'd 'undreds of 'orses at 'ome in 'Ammersmith, but wanted to own an 'ack 'ere, don'tcherknow.
So Bull lefts up his eyes to Heaven, praying, "Oh, don't deliver us from temptation yet!" Whereas I confided with this person about Bull being far gone in religious mania. I owned Bull right though, about my bein' a sailor, timid with 'orses; and he seen for hisself the way I was riding my Sam 'orse somethin' dreadful. Told me I'd ought to 'old my 'ed 'igh instead of 'umping. It's in toes, down 'eels, young feller, an' don't be 'ard on the bally hanimal. He'd gimme lessons only I was frightened, but out aways from town the ground was softer for falling, an' I gained courage. Happens Miss Polly's house was opposite. I scrambled down ungainly, shoved a pebble in along Sam's withers, and let this gent explain just how to set an 'ard-mouthed 'unter. You 'olds 'is 'ed, placin' the 'and on the 'orn of the saddle, so. Then hup! That pebble done the rest.
They claim these flying men is safe while they stays in the air, herding with cherubs. That's what's the matter. It's only when this early aviator came down—bang—that he lit on his temper, and sat denouncing me. Yes, I'd been misunderstood, and when I told him it was all for the best he got usin' adjectives. He bet me his diamond ring to a dollar he'd ride Sam, and I must own the little man had grit. He'd have won, too—but for Sam.
Now, it's partly due to this 'ere entertainment, and the diamond ring I gave her, that Miss Polly began to perceive me with the naked eye, and said I might come to supper.
And that evening was most surely wonderful, in a parlor all antimacassars and rocker chairs with pink bows. She showed me plush photo albums, and hand-painted pictures of ladies with no clothes on. She played Abide with Me on the harmonium; she made me write poetry in her birthday book. There was champagne wine, the little cigarettes with dreams inside, and a bottle no bigger'n my thumb smellin' so fierce it well-nigh blew my head off. Oh, it was all so elegant and high-toned that I got proud of being allowed indoors.