University of Virginia Library

20. CHAPTER XX.
SAWNEY AND WESTCOTT.

DAVID SAWNEY was delighted with the news
that Albert Charlton and Smith Westcott had
quarreled. “Westcott's run of luck in that quarter's
broke. When a feller has a run of luck right along,
and they comes a break, 'ts all up with him. Broke
luck can't be spliced. It's David Sawney's turn now. Poor
wind that blows no whar. I'll bet a right smart pile I'll pack
the little gal off yet.”

But if an inscrutable Providence had omitted to make any
Smith Westcotts, Dave Sawney wouldn't have stood the ghost of
a chance with Katy. His supreme self-complacency gave her
no occasion to pity him. Her love was close of kin to her
tender heartedness, and all pity was wasted on Dave. He
couldn't have been more entirely happy than he was if he had
owned the universe in fee simple.

However, Dave was resolved to try his luck, and so, soon
after Albert's departure, he blacked up his vast boots and slicked
his hair, and went to Plausaby's. He had the good luck to
find Katy alone.

“Howdy! Howdy! Howdy git along? Lucky, ain't I, to
find you in? Haw! haw! I'm one of the luckiest fellers ever

was born. Always wuz lucky. Found a fip in a crack in the
hearth 'fore I was three year old. 'Ts a fack. Found a two-and-a-half
gole piece wunst. Golly, didn't I feel some! Haw!
haw! haw! The way of't wuz this.” But we must not repeat
the story in all its meanderings, lest readers should grow as
tired of it as Katy did; for Dave crossed one leg over the other,
locked his hands round his knee, and told it with many a complacent
haw! haw! haw! When he laughed, it was not from
a sense of the ludicrous: his guffaw was a pure eruption of
delighted self-conceit.

“I thought as how as I'd like to explain to you somethin'
that might 'a' hurt yer feelin's, Miss Charlton. Didn't you feel
a little teched at sompin'?”

“No, Mr. Sawney, you never hurt my feelings.”

“Well, gals is slow to own up that they're hurt, you know.
But I'm shore you couldn't help bein', and I'm ever so sorry.
Them Injin goin'-ons of mine wuz enough to 'a' broke your
heart.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, my sellin' out to Perritaut for ten thousand dollars,
only I didn't. Haw! haw!” and Dave threw his head back to
laugh. “You had a right to feel sorter bad to think I would
consent to marry a Injin. But 'tain't every feller as'll git ten
thousand offered in five annooal payments; an' I wanted you to
understand 'twan't the Injin, 'twas the cash as reached me.
When it comes to gals, you're the posy fer me.”

Katy grew red, but didn't know what to say or do.

“I heerd tell that that feller Westcott'd got his walkin' papers.
Sarved him right, dancin' roun' like a rang-a-tang, and jos'lin'
his keys and ten-cent pieces in his pocket, and sayin' imperdent

things. But I could 'a' beat him at talk the bes' day he ever
seed ef he'd on'y 'a' gi'n me time to think. I kin jaw back
splendid ef you gin me time. Haw! haw! haw! But he ain't
far—don't never gin a feller time to git his thoughts gethered
up, you know. He jumps around like the Frenchman's flea.
Put yer finger on him an' he ain't thar, and never wuz. Haw!
haw! haw! But jest let him stay still wunst tell I get a
good rest on him like, and I'll be dog-on'd ef I don't knock
the hine sights offen him the purtiest day he ever seed! Haw!
haw! haw! Your brother Albert handled him rough, didn't
he? Sarved him right. I say, if a man is onrespectful to a
woman, her brother had orter thrash him; and your'n done it.
His eye's blacker'n my boot. And his nose! Haw! haw! it's
a-mournin' fer his brains! Haw! haw! haw! And he feels bad
bekase you cut him, too. Jemently, ef he don' look like 's ef
he'd kill hisself fer three bits.”

Katy was so affected by this fearful picture of poor, dear
Smith's condition, that she got up and hurried out of the room
to cry.

“What on airth 's the matter?” soliloquized Dave. “Bashful
little creeter, I 'low. Thought I wuz a-comin to the p'int,
maybe. Well, nex' time 'll do. Haw! haw! Young things is
cur'us now, to be shore. Mout's well be a gittin' on, I reckon.
Gin her time to come round, I 'low.”

With such wooing, renewed from time to time, the clumsy
and complacent Dave whiled away his days, and comforted
himself that he had the persimmon-tree all to himself, as he
expressed it. Meanwhile, the notes of Westcott were fast undoing
all that Albert had done to separate him from “the
purty little girl.”

Of course, when the right time came, he happened to meet
Katy on the street, and to take off his hat and make a melancholy
bow, the high-tragedy air of which confirmed Katy's suspicions
that he meant to commit suicide at the first opportunity.
Then he chanced to stop at the gate, and ask, in a tone sad
enough to have been learned from the gatherers of cold victuals,
if he might come in. In three days more, he was fully
restored to favor and to his wonted cheerfulness. He danced,
he sang, he chirruped, he rattled his keys, he was the Privileged
Infant once more. He urged Katy to marry him at once, but
her heart was now rent by pity for Albert and by her eager
anxiety lest he should do something desperate when he heard
of her reconciliation. She trembled every day at thought of
what might happen when he should return.

“Goin' to pre-empt in a few days, Katy. Whisky Jim come
plaguey near to gittin' that claim. He got Shamberson on his
side, and if Shamberson's brother-in-law hadn't been removed
from the Land Office before it was tried, he'd a got it. I'm
going to pre-empt and build the cutest little bird's nest for you.

Psha! Dat dah ain't de toon, bruddern. Ahem!
Dog-on'd ef 'tain't. White bread's good as brown bread. One's
jest as good as the other, and a good deal better. It's all the
same to me, and more so besides, and something to carry. It's
all the same, only 'tain't. Ahem:

“Get out yourself!” thundered Albert Charlton, bursting in
at that moment. “If you don't get your pack of tomfoolery
out of here quick, I'll get it out for you,” and he bore down
on Westcott fiercely.

“I beg pardon, Mr. Charlton. I'm here to see your sister
with her consent and your mother's, and—”

“And I tell you,” shouted Albert, “that my sister is a little
girl, and my mother doesn't understand such puppies as you,
and I am my sister's protector, and if you don't get out of
here, I'll kill you if I can.”

“Albert, don't be so quarrelsome,” said Mrs. Plausaby, coming
in at the instant. “I'm sure Mr. Westcott's a genteel man,
and good-natured to Katy, and—”

“Out! out! I say, confound you! or I'll break your empty
head,” thundered Charlton, whose temper was now past all

softening. “Put your hand on that pistol, if you dare,” and
with that he strode at the Privileged Infant with clenched fist,
and the Privileged Infant prudently backed out the door into
the yard, and then, as Albert kept up his fierce advance, the
Privileged Infant backed out of the gate into the street. He
was not a little mortified to see the grinning face of Dave Sawney
in the crowd about the gate, and to save appearances, he called
back at Albert, who was returning toward the house, that he
would settle this affair with him yet. But he did not know
how thoroughly Charlton's blood was up.

“Settle it?” said Albert—yelled Albert, I should say—turning
back on him with more fury than ever. “Settle it, will you?
I'll settle it right here and now, you cowardly villain! Let's
have it through, now,” and he walked swiftly at Westcott, who
walked away; but finding that the infuriated Albert was coming
after him, the Privileged Infant hurried on until his retreat
became a run, Westcott running down street, Charlton hotly
pursuing him, the spectators running pell-mell behind, laughing,
cheering, and jeering.

“Don't come back again if you don't want to get killed,” the
angry Charlton called, as he turned at last and went toward home.

“Now, Katy,” he said, with more energy than tenderness,
as he entered the house, “if you are determined to marry that
confounded rescal, I shall leave at once. You must decide now.
If you will go East with me next week, well and good. If you
won't give up Smith Westcott, then I shall leave you now
forever.”

Katy couldn't bear to be the cause of any disaster to anybody;
and just at this moment Smith was out of sight, and
Albert, white and trembling with the reaction of his passion,

stood before her. She felt, somehow, that she had brought all
this trouble on Albert, and in her pity for him, and remorse for
her own course, she wept and clung to her brother, and begged
him not to leave her. And Albert said: “There, don't cry
any more. It's all right now. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.
There, there!” There is nothing a man can not abide
better than a woman in tears.