d
to the volume by Captain R.K. Beecham, entitled _Gettysburg_
(A.C. McClurg, 1911).]

LINK
(_snapping his eyes wide open, sits up_)

Hello! Cat-nappin' was I, Polly?

POLLY
Just
A kitten-nap, I guess.

(_Laying the hoe down, she approaches_)

The yoke done?

LINK
(_giving a final whittle to the yoke-collar thong_)

Thar!
When he's ben steamed a spell, and bended snug,
I guess this feller'll sarve t' say "Gee" to--
(_Lifting the other yoke-collar from beside his chair, he
holds the whittled thong next to it, comparing the two
with expert eye_)
and "Haw" to him. Beech every time, Sir; beech
or walnut. Hang me if I'd shake a whip
at birch, for ox-yokes.--Polly, are ye thar?

POLLY
Yes, Uncle Link.

LINK
What's that I used to sing ye?

"Polly, put the kittle on,
Polly, put the kittle on,
Polly, put the kittle on--"

(_Chuckling'_)

We'll give this feller a dose of ox-yoke tea!

POLLY
The kettle's boilin'.

LINK
Wall, then, steep him good.

(POLLY _takes from_ LINK _the collar-thong, carries it to the
work-bench, shoves it into the narrow end of the box, which she
then closes tight and connects--by a piece of hose--to the spout
of the kettle. At the farther end of the box, steam then emerges
through a small hole._)

POLLY
You're feelin' smart to-day.

LINK
Smart!--Wall, if I
could git a hull man to swap legs with me,
mebbe I'd arn my keep. But this here settin'
dead an' alive, without no legs, day in,
day out, don't make an old hoss wuth his oats.

POLLY
(_cheerfully_)

I guess you'll soon be walkin' round.

LINK
Not if
that doctor feller has his say: He says
I can't never go agin this side o' Jordan;
and looks like he's 'bout right.--Nine months to-morrer,
Polly, gal, sence I had that stroke.

PO