.

"'They don't deetect my catamount none, which sagacious feline slinks
off into the shadows covered with confoosion; all they sees is us. An'
the spectacle certainly excites old Bender. "Gen'ral Jackson fit the
Injuns!" he exclaims, as all of a sudden a thought strikes him; "that
measly excoose for a Union Democrat out thar is seekin' to eelope with
our Sarah Ann."

"'The old murderer starts to get a bead on me with the Hawkins.
"Father," yells Marm Bender, pullin' at his sleeve, "you shore must be
mistook."

"'Old Bender won't have it. "Maw," he returns, strivin' to disengage
himse'f, "I was never mistook about nothin' in my life but once, an'
that's when I shifts from baldface whiskey to hard cider on a
temp'rance argyooment. Let me go, woman, till I drill the miscreant
an' wash the stain from our fam'ly honor."

"'Before the old hom'cide can get to launderin' the fam'ly honor in my
blood, however, Sarah Ann has interposed. "Don't go to blazing away at
my Dickey, pop," she sings out, "or I'll shore burn every improvement
you got, an' leave you an' maw an' me roofless in the midst of the
wilderness."

"'This goes a long way towards soberin' down old Bender, because he
knows my Sarah Ann's the Cumberland hollyhock to put them menaces into
execootion. He lowers the muzzle of his old 8-squar', an' allows if I
promises to marry the girl I can swim ashore an' be forgiven.

"'Thus the matter ends mighty amic'ble. We'all goes trackin' up to the
house, a preacher is rushed to the scene from Pineknot, an' them
nuptials between Sarah Ann an' me is sol'mnized. Shore, Jenks an' Ben
is thar. They're found by a committee of their friends scattered about
at the foot of the hollow, an' is collected an' brought up to the
weddin' in blankets. Dave Daniels, who surveys the scene next day,
says you could plant corn whar they fit, it's that plowed up.

"'Followin' the cer'mony Marm Bender an' the old gent takes me into
their hearts an' cabin like I'm their own an' only son. He's a great
old daddy-in-law, old Bender is, an' is ven'rated for forty miles
about Gingham Mountain, as deevoted heart an' soul to baldface,
seven-up an' sin in any shape.

"'That match-makin' catamount?

"'We hives him. Me an' my new daddy-in-law tracks him to his reetreat,
an' when we're through he's plumb used up. I confers the pelt on my
Sarah Ann; an' she spreads it on the floor over by her side of the
bed, so as to put her little number sevens on i