Part 7 (1/2)

Say! cain't you hear them Bar Y punchers?--”_Yip! yip! yip! yip!

yip! yip! ye-e-e!_” A-course all the _other_ punchers, they hollered, too. And whilst we was yellin', that tenderfoot from Noo York was a-jabberin' to Macie, mad like, and scowlin' over my way. And she?

Wal, she was laughin', and blus.h.i.+n', and shakin' that pretty haid of hern--at _me!_

I was so _ex_cited I didn't know whether I was a-foot 'r a-hoss-back.

But I knowed enough to _buy,_ all right. Wal, that medicine went like hotcakes! I blowed _my_self, and Hairoil blowed _his_-self, and the Bar Y boys cleaned they pockets till the bottles was piled up knee-high byside the benches. And whilst we sh.e.l.led out, the Judge kept on a-goin' like he'd been wound up--”Here's _another_ feller that wants Root-ee! and here's another over on this side! And, lady, it'll be good fer you, too, _yas,_ ma'am. The Blackfoot Injun Rootee, my friends, the Pain Balm, the Cough Balsam, the Magic Salve, and the Worm Destroyer,--the fi-i-ive remedies fer two dollars!”

When I come to, a little bit later on, the hall was just about empty, and Hairoil was pullin' me by the arm to git me to move. I looked 'round fer Macie Sewell. She was gone, and so was the Doc and Billy Trowbridge and Rose and Up-State. Outside, right under my window, I ketched sight of a white dress a-goin' past. It was her. ”Macie,” I whispers to myself; ”Macie Sewell.”

That night, I couldn't sleep. I was upset kinda, and just crazy with thinkin' how I'd help her to win out. And I made up my mind t' this: If more votes come in fer Mollie Brown than they did fer the gal that _oughta_ have 'em, why, I'd just shove a gun under that Judge's nose and tell him to ”count 'em over and _count 'em right._”

'Cause, I figgered, no eatin'-house gal with a face like a flat-car was a-goin' to be _e_lected the prettiest gal of Briggs. Not if _I_ seen myself, _no,_ ma'am. 'Specially not whilst Sewell's little gal was in the country. Anybody could pick _her_ fer the winner if they had on blinders. ”Cupid,” I says, ”you hump you'self!”

Next day, the Judge, he give consultin's in the eatin'-house sample-room. I went over and had a talk with him, tellin' him just how I wanted that votin' contest to go. He said he wisht me luck, but that if the railroad boys felt they needed his medicine, he didn't believe he had no right to keep 'em from buyin'. And, a-course, when a feller made a buy, he wanted t' vote like he pleased. Said the best thing was t' git holt of folks that 'd met Miss Sewell and liked her, 'r wanted t' work fer her ole man, 'r 'd just as lief do _me_ a good turn.

I hunted up Billy. ”Doc,” I says, ”I _hope_ Briggs ain't a-goin' to name that Brown waitress fer its best sample. Now----”

”Aw, wal,” says Billy, ”think how it 'd tickle her!”

”Tickle some other gal just as much,” I says.

”And the _prettiest_ gal ought to be choosed. Now, it could be fixed--_easy._”

”Who do you think it oughta be?” ast Billy.

”Strikes me you' wife's little sister is the pick.”

”Cupid,” says Billy, lookin' anxious like, ”don't you git you'self too much inter_est_ed in Macie Sewell. You know how the ole man feels towards you. And what can _I_ do? He ain't any too friendly with _me_ yet? So be keerful.”

”Now, Doc,” I goes on, ”don't you go to worryin' about me. Just you help by _prescribin' that medicine._”

”To folks that don't need none?” ast Billy. ”Aw, I don't like to.”

(Billy's awful white, Billy is.) ”It won't do 'em no good.”

”Wal,” I says, ”it won't do 'em no _harm._”

Billy said he'd see.

”You could let it out that somebody in town's been cured by the stuff,” I suggests.

”Only make them railroad fellers buy more.”

”That's so. Wal, I guess the best thing fer me to do is to hunt up people with a misery and tell 'em they'd better buy--and vote my way.”

Billy throwed back his haid and haw-hawed.

”You're a _d.i.c.kens_ of a feller!” he says. ”When you want to have you' own way, I never seen _any_-body that could think up more gol-darned things.”

”And,” I _con_tinues, ”if that Root-ee just had a lot of forty-rod mixed in it, it 'd be easier'n all git out to talk fellers into takin'

it. If they'd try _one_ bottle, they'd sh.o.r.e take _another._”