But he hung off till I tole him about the scheme of the railroad bunch. Seems that Sparks had a grudge agin the eatin'-house 'cause it wouldn't give him train-men's rates fer grub. So he fell right into line.
Macie Sewell didn't come to the show that night, so I didn't stay long. Over to the bunk-house, I got a piece of paper and some ink and (ain't ashamed of it, _neither,_) writ down her name. Under it, I put mine. Then, after crossin' out all the letters that was alike, and countin' "Friendship, love, indiff'rence, hate, courtship, marriage," it looked like this:
M[a][c][i][e] S[e]w[e][l][l] friendship, [A][l][e][c] [L][l]oyd marriage.
[Transcriber's note: letters in brackets were "crossed out"]
By jingo, I reckon it stood just about that way!
Next mornin', whilst I was standin' outside the post-office, she come ridin' up! Say, all to oncet my heart got to goin' somethin' turrible--I was feard she'd hear it, no josh. My hands felt weak, too, so's I could hardly pull off my Stetson; and my ears got red; and my tongue thick, like the time I got offen the trail in Arizonaw and din't have no water fer two 'r three days.
"Miss Sewell," I says, "can I ast fer you' mail? Then you won't have to git down."
When I give it to her, I got my sand back a little. "I hope," I says, "that you didn't mind my puttin' you' name up in that votin' contest. Did y'?"
"I'm awful glad. And I'm a-comin' out to the Bar Y the first to ride line."
"Are y'?" Them pink cheeks of hern got pinker'n ever, and when she loped off, she smiled back at me!
Say! I never was so happy in all my life! I went to work gittin' votes fer her, feelin' like ev'rybody was my friend--even ole Skinflint Curry, that I'd had words with oncet. That railroad bunch was a-workin', too, and a-talkin' up Mollie Brown. And I heerd that they planned to hole back a lot of votes till Macie Sewell's count was all in, and then spring 'em to elect the other gal. That got me worried some.
About six o'clock, one of them fancy vests went 'round town, hollerin' it out that the show 'd give its last performance that night. "What's you sweat?" I ast him. Nothin', he says, only the Judge reckoned about all the folks that intended to buy Root-ee had bought a'ready.