One time they’s a feller was huntin’ ’is pork Somewhar over yender not fur from the Fork. Now they’s fokes ’at’s still livin’ ’at ’ll tell ye they know Thet what I’m a-tellin’ ye reely was so. Wal, night come along an’ ’e hedn’t shot nuthin’, An’ ’e got kind o’ scary an’ tho’t ’e heerd suthin’; So ’e turned an’ ’e run like a stampeded steer Till ’is breathin’ give out an’ ’is legs felt queer. They was only one thing fer the poor cuss ter dew, An thet was ter shin up a tree by the ‘slew’ Whar ’e happened ter be; an’ thet’s what ’e done When ’e’d got ’is wind back an’ hed throwed down ’is gun. He grabbed a young hick’ry with both han’s an’ feet, An’ ’e clumb an’ ’e clumb till ’e found a good seat. Thar ’e rested a hour a-huggin’ the tree Till at last ’e decided ’twas safe ter work free. But ’e couldn’t giddown—stuck right whar ’e was A-wond’rin’ wottell ’s ailin’ graverty’s laws! He shoved an’ ’e squeezed an’ ’e sweat with a will, An’ ’is legs was woun’ tight round thet hickory, till— Dog tater my black cat’s kittens!—he found He hed be’n settin’ thar all the while on the ground!” XIX Bill on Tobacco I lit my pipe, an’ set with Bill a spell Out on the porch. The sun hed jes’ went down; The hens an’ chickens, ’thout no ’parent aim, Was gravitatin’ towards the hen-house door; The poults was floppin’ int’ the apple tree, An’ Zony come acrost the dewy yard A-bringin’ in the evenin’ mess o’ milk. ’Twas peaceful like, an’ I was tuckered out, An’ thet thar corn-cob tasted pow’ful good. I hedn’t hed a smoke sence noon, an’ co’se I’d be’n a-cravin’ on’t sence supper’s over, An’ kind o’ grudged ter hev ter gwout an’ feed The colts ’fore settin’ down an’ lightin’ up. But now the work was done, an’ thar I was Ez comf’tabul an’ ca’m ez I could be, Suckin’ an’ blowin’ great big gobs o’ smoke, An’ strangulatin’ three four hundred flies Thet got the’rsel’s all settled fer the night. Bill picked ’is teeth ez quiet ez a lamb, An’ didn’t make no sound, ’cept ’cazhnully, When one my puffs would veer agin ’is face, He’d cough an’ bresh the smoke off with ’is hand. I’d never saw Bill smoke, or chaw, or “dip,” Sence I hed knowed ’im, tho’ I’d offen wondered Jes’ why it was thet he denied hisself About the bigges’ comfort they is goin’. I blowed a bunch o’ smoke rings threw the screen, An’ watched ’em melt away in bluish mist. Then I inhaled, an’ filled my chist up full Till I could feel the nickerteen soak in Clean to my toes, an’ brace me up all over. I fairly wallered in thet smoke, by jing! At last—’twas gittin’ right smart darkish, ’n’ we Could hear the snipe a-callin’ in the fiel’, An’ all the western sky was brownish pink— Bill ups an’ sez—an’ I could see ’is grin— “’Pears like y’er’ gittin’ sight o’ comfort out