“A-arabellie!” wails Wick. “My ⸺, woman, git out of sight!”
Mrs. Smith gets to her feet and yelps back at Wick:
“Git out of sight yourself—if you don’t like it! I’ll teach you to flirt with a dancer. Start the music over again, Bill.”
“Em-m-m-i-lee!” shrieks Sam Holt. “Ain’tcha got no modesty? Go put on your shoes and socks!”
Bill Thatcher starts squealing on his instrument again, and Mrs. Smith starts doing some fancy steps.
Wow! Here comes Judge Steele, Art Wheeler, Pete Gonyer, Testament Tilton, Wick Smith and Sam Holt, climbing right over the top of folks.
“Git ba-a-a-ck!” squeaks Seenery, waving his shotgun. “Stop it! Whoa, Blaze!”
“Look at the wild man!” howls somebody, and here comes Magpie across the stage hopping high and handsome.
“Stop ’em, Scenery!” whoops Magpie. “Dog-gone ’em, they can’t bust up my show!”
Man, I’ll tell all my grandchildren this tale. Them outraged husbands came up on that stage, while Yaller Rock County yelled itself hoarse and made bets on whether it would be an odd or even number of deaths. Magpie hit Pete in the neck and Pete lit with one leg on each side of Bill Thatcher’s head. Wick Smith got hold of his wife and them two started a tug of war.