An' Abe
tells Polly Ann Jeb says he aims to
have her fer a Christmas gift afore
mornin'. Polly Ann jes sniffed sorter,
but you know women folks air always
mighty ambitious jes to SEE a feller
anyways, 'f he's a-pinin' fer 'em. So
Jeb come, an' Jeb was fixed up now
fittin' to kill. Jeb had his hair oiled
down nice an' slick, and his mustache
was jes black as powder could make
hit. Naturely hit was red; but a feller
can't do nothin' in these mountains
with a red mustache; an' Jeb had a
big black ribbon tied in the butt o'
the bigges' pistol Abe Shivers could
borrer fer him--hit was a badge o'
death an' deestruction to his enemies,
Abe said, an' I tell ye Jeb did look
like a man. He never opened his
mouth atter he says ``howdy''--Jeb
never does say nothin'; Jeb's one o'
them fellers whut hides thar lack o'
brains by a-lookin' solemn an' a-keepin'
still, but thar don't nobody say much
tell the ole folks air gone to bed, an'
Polly Ann jes 'lowed Jeb was a-waitin'.
Fact is, stranger, Abe Shivers had got
Jeb a leetle disguised by liquer, an' he
did look fat an' sassy, ef he couldn't
talk, a-settin' over in the corner a-
plunkin' the banjer an' a-knockin' off
``Sour-wood Mountain'' an' ``Jinny git
aroun' '' an' ``Soapsuds over the Fence.
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