“I nigh onto bust with madness!--I could feel every har on my head kindlin' at the eend, 'cause I knew sum cussed lie had been told her, and I blamed Jess fur doin' it. I jest swar a bible oath, I'd spile his pictur' so he couldn't enjoy campmeetin' much; so next mornin,' bright and airly, I _accidentally_ fell in with Jess, goin' arter Sally, with all his Sunday kiverin' on, lookin' as nice as a 'stall fed two year old.' I rite up and asked him what he meant by tellin' lies to the galls about me; that I'd hearn on 'em all over the settlement. “'I haint told no lie on you,' ses Jess, 'fur what's told, you told yourself--ef you hev _nigger babies_ in the south, you needn't insult decent white gals by offerin' to let 'em _nuss_ 'em--' “I didn't wait till he finished afore I hit him, _biff_, alongside of his smeller, and went into him _all-fours_, catamount fashion. The thing had now cum to a windin' up pint--this fight war to eend the matter about Sally, and as I didn't want to gin her up easy, I laid myself out fur a purty long spell. I could soon see by the way Jess went to work that he'd kalculated upon a pretty big _chunk_ of a fight, too, so we both began to save ourselves. I had a leetle the advantage of Jess, for he didn't want to spile his Sunday fix-ups, while I didn't care a cuss fur my old boat suit. When I'd grab his trowsers and gin 'em a hitch, he'd ease off, and then I'd lend him a staggerer, which was generally follered by his makin' me fly round like a weazel--cre-a-tion, how tough he war! “While we wur havin' a rite smart time together, nary one of us seed Sally ridin' along down the wagin track, lookin' out fur Jess, but she seed us, hitched her horse, and climbed onto a stump to see the fight out. As I war carfully reachin' fur Jess' ear with my grinders, I heerd her sing out-- “'Tech it ef you _dar!_--you nigger cannibal!' “Her hollerin' gin Jess an advantage and helped his strength powerfully, fur the next minit I war on my back and him right astraddle on me. “'_Sock_ your teeth into him, Jess!' screamed Sally, and about then, _je-e-e-miny_ fellars, I leaped as ef lightnin' had hit me, fur his grinders had met through the flesh she called his attention to. I squirmed, and struggled, and chawed meat, but he held on--I grabbed his new trowsers, and tore them like paper--he was agoin to let go to kiver his coat tails over the torn place, but Sally hollered out agin-- “'Whip the varmint fust and then I'll mend 'em up!'” I squealed enough! rite out--it warn't no use a fightin' agin such odds. Arter Jess let me up, Sally looked at me, and puckered up her mouth as ef she had been eatin' unripe persimmons-- “'_Enough!_' ses she, 'well, may I git ager fits, ef you're fit fur anythin' but to be the father of _yaller pledges!_” [Illustration: 0359] GEORGE MUNDAY, THE HATLESS PROPHET.