for it.

"Ah, here we are! Look at that! Smith and Pocahontas! John Smith.
Isn't that just gorgeous? See how she kneels over him and sticks out
her hands while he lays on the ground and that big fellow with a club
tries to hammer him up. Talk about woman's love! There it is. Modocs,
I believe. Anyway, some Indians out West there somewheres; and the
publisher tells me that Shacknasty, or whatever his name is, there,
was going to bang old Smith over the head with that log of wood, and
this girl here, she was sweet on Smith, it appears, and she broke
loose and jumped forward, and says to the man with the stick, 'Why
don't you let John alone? Me and him are going to marry; and if you
kill him, I'll never speak to you again as long as I live,' or words
like them; and so the man, he give it up, and both of them hunted up a
preacher and were married, and lived happily ever afterward. Beautiful
story, ain't it? A good wife she made him, too, I bet, if she _was_ a
little copper-colored. And don't she look just lovely in that picture?
But Smith appears kinder sick. Evidently thinks his goose is cooked;
and I don't wonder, with that Modoc swooping down on him with such a
discouraging club.

"And now we come to--to--ah--to Putnam--General Putnam. He fought in
the war, too; and one day a lot of 'em caught him when he was off his
guard, and they tied him flat on his back on a horse, and then licked
the horse like the very mischief. And what does that horse do but go
pitching down about four hundred stone steps in front of the house,
with General Putnam laying there nearly skeered to death. Leastways,
the publisher said somehow that way, and I oncet read about it myself.
But he came out safe, and I reckon sold the horse and made a pretty
good thing of it. What surprises me is he didn't break his neck;
but maybe it was a mule, and they're pretty sure-footed, you know.
Surprising what some of these men have gone through, ain't it?

"Turn over a couple of leaves. That's General Jackson. My father shook
hands with him once. He was a fighter, I know. He fit down in New
Orleans. Broke up the rebel legislature, and then, when the Ku-Kluxes
got after him, he fought 'em behind cotton breastworks and licked 'em
till they couldn't stand. They say he was terrific when he got real
mad. Hit straight from the shoulder, and fetched his man every time.
Andrew his first name was; and look how his hair stands up! And then
here's John Adams and Danie