roared. "He ain't a bit scared!" "Go it, Josey!"
"You don't forgit yer piece!" And a great deal more, while they pounded
with their boots.

"I love little pussy," began Josey.

"Poor darling!" said a lady next me. "No mother."

"I'll sit by the fi-yer."

Josey was continuing. But nobody heard him finish. The room was a Babel.

"Look at his little hand!" "Only three fingers inside them rags!"
"Nobody to mend his clothes any more." They all talked to each other,
and clapped and cheered, while Josey stood, one leg slightly advanced
and proudly stiff, somewhat after the manner of those military
engravings where some general is seen erect upon an eminence at the
moment of victory.

Mr. Eastman again appeared from the bunting, and was telling us, I have
no doubt, something of importance; but the giant barkeeper now shouted
above the din, "Who says Josey Yeatts ain't the speaker for this night?"

At that striking of the common chord I saw them heave, promiscuous and
unanimous, up the steps to the stage. Josey was set upon Abe Hanson's
shoulder, while ladies wept around him. What the literary committee
might have done I do not know, for we had not the time even to resign.
Guy and Leola now appeared, bearing the prize between them--a picture of
Washington handing the Bible out of clouds to Abraham Lincoln--and very
immediately I found myself part of a procession. Men and women we were,
marching about Sharon. The barkeeper led; four of Sharon's fathers
followed him, escorting Josey borne aloft on Abe Hanson's shoulder,
and rigid and military in his bearing. Leola and Guy followed with the
picture; Stuart walked with me, whistling melodies of the war--Dixie
and others. Eastman was not with us. When the ladies found themselves
conducted to the saloon, they discreetly withdrew back to the
entertainment we had broken out from. Josey saw them go, and shrilly
spoke his first word:

"Ain't I going to have any ice-cream?"

This presently caused us to return to the ladies, and we finished the
evening with entire unity of sentiment. Eastman alone took the incident
to heart; inquired how he was to accomplish anything with hands tied,
and murmured his constant burden once more: "One is not appreciated, not
appreciated."

I do not stop over in Sharon any more. My ranch friend, whose presence
there brought me to visit him, is gone away. But such was my virgin
experience of the place; and in later days fate led me to be concerned
w