"What? leave you to face those fiends alone!" she cried, and slid from her horse's back;
"Let me die with you—for I love you, CLEM!" Then she gave her steed a resounding smack,
And he bounded off; "Now Heaven be praised that my school six-shooter I brought!" said she.
"Four barrels I'll keep for the front-rank foes—and the next for you—and the last for me!"
Soc. Chat. Is it a comic piece she's doing, do you know? Don't think so, I can see somebody smiling. Sounds rather like SHAKSPEARE, or DICKENS, or one of those fellahs ... Didn't catch what you said. No Quite impossible to hear oneself speak, isn't it?
Miss F.B.
And ever louder the demons yelled for their pale-faced prey—but I scorned death's pangs,
For I deemed it a doom that was half delight to die by the hand of LOBELIA BANGS!
Then she whispered low in her dulcet tones, like the crooning coo of a cushat dove!
(At the top of her voice). "Forgive me, CLEM, but I could not bear any squaw to torture my own true love!"