an' holler like a
owl, an' then I'd slip out the back do'--an' that's the way we done
our co'tin'. My folks didn't hev no truck with the Wattses thet lived
on t'other side the mountain, 'count of them killin' two Strunkses a
way back, the Strunkses bein' my pa's ma's folks, over a hawg. Even
then I didn't hev no notion o' marryin' Watts, jest done hit to be
a-doin' like, ontil pa an' the boys ketched on to whut we wus up to.
After thet, hit got so't every time they heerd a squinch owl holler,
they'd begin a-shootin' into the bresh with their rifle guns. Watts
lowed they was comin' doggone clust to him a time er two, an' how he
aimed to bring along his own gun some night, an' start a shootin'
back.

"Law knows wher it would ended, whut one with another, the Biggses an'
the Strunkses, an' the Rawlins, an' the Craborchards would hev be'n
drug into hit, along of the Wattses an' the Scrogginses. So I tuk
Watts, an' we went to live with his folks, an' we sent back the mewel
with Job Swenky, who they wouldn't nobody kill 'cause he wus a daftie.
An' pa brung back the mewel hisself, come alone, an' 'thouten his
rifle-gun. He says seem' how Watts hed got me fair an' squr, an' we
wus reg'lar married, he reckoned the ol' grudge wus dead, the
Strunkses wasn't no count much, nohow, an' we wus welcome to keep the
mewel to start on. So Watts's pa killed a shoat, an' brung out a big
jug o' corn whisky, an' we-all et an' drunk all we could hold, an'
from then on 'til whut time we come away from ther, they wusn't a man,
outside a couple o' revenoos, killed on B'ar Track.

"So yo' see," the woman continued, with a smile. "Hit don't take no
time to git ready, onct yo' git in the notion."

"I'm afraid I haven't the same provocation," Patty laughed, as she
picked up her pail of eggs and swung into the saddle. "Good-by, and be
sure and tell Microby Dandeline to come up and see me. Maybe she'd
like to come up on Sunday. I never ride on Sunday."

"She'll come fast enough," promised Ma Watts, and watched the
retreating girl until a bend of the creek carried her out of sight.

The long shadows of the mountains were slowly climbing the opposite
wall of the valley, as the girl rode leisurely up Monte's Creek. And
as she rode, she smiled: "Why is it that every married woman--and
especially the older ones, thinks it is her bounden duty to pounce
upon and marry off every single one? It is not one bit different out
here in the heart of the hills,