didn't
favor shiny tinware. 'It rustes out,' she told the peddler. 'Nohow I've
got plenty of iron cook vessels.' All the time the old peddler was
trying to wheedle and coax her into buying something, a quart cup, a
milk bucket, a dishpan, a washpan. I was inside in the sitting room
resting myself on the sofa. I could hear the peddler outside on the
stoop, bickering and haranguing at Levicy to buy. Finally I got my fill
of it and I tiptoed out through the kitchen-house, my gun over my
shoulder. I went to the barn lot and turned loose Buck, a young bull we
had that I'd been aimin' to swop Jim Vance. I give Buck one good wollop
across the rump with the pam of my hand. He kicked up his heels and
rushed forward, me close behind with my gun. The peddler took one look
at Buck, so it peered to me, and Buck took one look at the peddler,
lowered his head and charged. The peddler let out a war whoop and flew
down the hillside like a thousand hornets had lit on him. The pack fell
from his back and there was a scattermint of tinware from top to bottom
of that hill. Buck shook his head and snorted. His eyes bugged outten
the sockets. I couldn't tell if he was ragin' mad at the shiny tin cook
vessels that was tanglin' his hoofs, or if it was the red shirt and
red-topped boots of the peddler that riled Buck. Nohow Buck ducked his
head again and bellowed, caught a shiny quart cup on each horn and a
couple washpans on his forefeet and kept right on down the hill. By this
time the tin peddler had scooted up a tall tree quick as a squirrel and
there he set on a limb. Buck was ragin' and chargin' in circles around
that tree. That bull was riled plum to a franzy and that tin peddler was
yaller as a punkin. Skeert out of his wits. 'Come on down, you pore
critter!' sez I. But he just opened his mouth and couldn't say a word,
just a dry croak like a frog bein' swallored in sudden quicksand. 'Come
on down,' I coaxed, 'I'll quile Buck down till he's peaceable as a
kitten.'

"But the peddler just starred at me and shivered on the limb like a
sparrow bird freezin' of a winter time in the snow. 'I'll tend to Buck!'
I promised him. 'Come on down!' And to put his mind at ease I up with my
rifle-gun, shot the quart tin cups offen Buck's horns and the washpans
offen his front hoofs. 'Now get back to the barn where you belong and
behave yourself!' I sez to Buck and he scampered back up the hill as
frolicsome as a lamb, pickin' his way careful like as a J