I reckons now thar's five hundred people thar. `'Which the
occasion, an' the interest the public takes in the business, jest
combs the region of folks for miles about.
"'Thar's a heap of hand-shakin' an' well-wishin' goin' on; mothers
an' sisters, an' sweethearts is kissin' us good-bye; an' while
thar's some hilarity thar's more sobs. It's not, as I looks
back'ard, what you-alls would call a gay affair.
"'While all this yere love an' tears is flowin', thar's a gent--he's
our Captain--who's settin' off alone in his saddle, an' ain't takin'
no hand. Thar's no sweetheart, no mother, no sister for him.
"'No one about Warwhoop knows this yere party much; more'n his name
is Bent. He's captain with the Gov'nor's commission, an' comes from
'way-off yonder some'ers. An' so he sets thar, grim an' solid in his
saddle, lookin' vague-like off at where the trees meets the sky,
while the rest of us is goin' about permiscus, finishin' up our
kissin'.
"'"Ain't he got no sweetheart to wish goodbye to him?" asks a girl
of me. "Ain't thar no one to kiss him for good luck as he rides
away?"
"'This yere maiden's name is Sanders, an' it's a shore fact she's
the prettiest young female to ever make a moccasin track in West
Tennessee.
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