a limb. Thirteen or fifteen, however, it don't
make no difference much, once they're submerged, that a-way.

"'Mebby I've been co'tin' my Sarah Ann for goin' on six months, givin'
her b'ar robes an' mink pelts, with now an' then a pa'r of bald eagle
wings to bresh the hearth. Nothin' heart-movin', however, comes off
between us, Sarah Ann keepin' me at arm's len'th an' comportin'
herse'f plumb uppish, as a maiden should. She's right; a likely girl
can't be too conserv'tive techin' what young an' boundin' bucks comes
co'tin' at her house.

"'Old Bender sort o' likes me in streaks. After he gets bereft of them
thirteen or fifteen offspring he turns morose a whole lot, an' I used
to go 'cross in my dugout an' cheer him up with my lies.

"'Could I lie?

"'My nephy, Sammy, thar'll nar'ate how I once lies a full-grown b'ar
to death. The cunnin' varmint takes advantage of me bein' without my
weepons, an' chases me up a tree. I ensconces myse'f in the crotch,
an' when the b'ar starts to climb I hurls down ontrooth after ontrooth
on top of him ontill, beneath a avalanche of falsehood, he's crushed
dead at the base of the tree. Could I lie, you asks? Even folks who
don't like me concedes that I'm the most irresist'ble liar south of
the Ohio river.

"'While I'm upliftin' the feelin's of old Bender mendacious that
a-way, he likes me; it's only when we gets to kyard-playin' he waxes
sour. He's a master-hand to gamble, old Bender is, an' as shore as I
shows up, followin' a lie or two, he's bound he'll play me seven-up
for a crock of baldface whiskey. Now thar ain't a sport from the Knobs
of old Knox to the Mississippi who could make seed corn off me at
seven-up, an' nacherally I beats old Bender out of the baldface.

"'With that he'd rave an' t'ar, an' make like he's goin' to jump for
his 8-squar' Hawkins rifle, whar she's hangin' on a pa'r of antlers
over the door; but he'd content himse'f final by orderin' me out of
the shack, sayin' that no sech kyard-sharpin' galoot as me need come
pesterin' 'round allowin' to marry no child of his'n. At sech eepocks,
too, it looks like Sarah Ann sees things through the eyes of her old
man, an' she's more'n common icy.

"'One day old Bender goes weavin' over to Pineknot, an' starts to
tradin' hosses with Zeb Stiles. They seesaws away for hours, an' old
Bender absorbs about two dollars' worth of licker, still-house rates.
In the finish Zeb does him brown an' does him black on the swap, so i