outcome of the discussion between
Mrs. Bolster and Jeff Hackberry.

"Holler 'nuff, Jeff, or out goes yer last light," commanded Mrs.
Bolster, emphasizing her words by rising a little, and then settling
down on Jeff's breast with a force that drove near every spoonful of
breath out of him.

"'Frony, le' me up," he begged in gasps.{206}

"Mrs. Bolster," she reminded him, with another jounce upon his chest.

"Mrs. Bolster, le' me up. I'd 'a' got away with that 'ere Yank ef ye'
hedn't tripped me with them long legs o' your'n."

"I'm right smart on the trip, aint I," she grinned. "I never seed a man
yit that I couldn't throw in any sort of a rastle."

"Le' me up, Mrs. Bolster, an le's begin over agin, an' yo' keep out,"
begged Hackberry.

"Not much I won't. I ain't that kind of a chicken," she asserted with
another jounce. "When I down a man I down him fer good, an' he never
gits up agin 'till he caves entirely. If I let yo' up, will yo' swar to
quite down peaceable as a lamb, an' make the rest do the same?"

"Never," asserted Hackberry. "I'm ergwine to have it out with that
Yank."

"No you haint," she replied with a still more emphatic jounce that made
Hackberry use all the breath left him to groan.

"I'll quit," he said, with his next instalment of atmosphere.

"Will yo' agree t' let me marry this Yank, an' t' give me away as my
oldest friend, nearest o' kin, an' best man?" she inquired, rising
sufficiently to let him take in a full breath and give a free, unforced
answer.

"Nary a time," he shrieked. "I'll die fust, afore I'll 'low yo' t' marry
ary other man but me."

"Then you'll lose yor blinker, yo' pigheaded, likker-guzzling', ornery,
no-account sand-hill crane," she said, viciously coming down on his
chest with{207} her full weight and sticking the point of hei nail
against his eye. "I wouldn't marry yo' if ye wuz the last nubbin' in
the Lord A'mighty's crib, and thar'd never be another crap o' men. Ye'll
never git no chance to make me yer slave, and beat me and starve me t'
death as yo' did Nance Brill. I ain't gwine t' fool with yer pervarsity
nary a minnit longer. Say this instant whether yo'll do as I say with a
freewill and good heart, or out goes yer peeper." "I promise," groaned
Jeff.{208 }

"Yo' sw'ar hit?" she demanded.

"Yes, I sw'ar hit," answered Jeff.

Mrs. Bolster rose, and confirmed the contract by giving him a kick in
the side with her heavy brogan.

"That's jest a lovetap," she