"You have, and I hold you accountable. You've got to marry me. I've made up my mind. And when Sally Spitfire makes up her mind, she means it. To refuse my hand is to insult me, and no man shall insult me with safety. No, sir! not so long as I carry a Colt's revolver. I took a fancy to you, young man, the minute my eyes rested on you. I froze to you to oncst. I calculate to marry you right off. Will you inquire around for a clergyman? or shall I do it myself?" "I will go," I said, quickly. "P'raps I'd better go 'long," she said, suspiciously, and as I arose she followed suit, and we[115] walked down the car together, she twice asking in a loud voice if there was a minister on board. [115] "One in the next car," at last spoke a fellow, looking at us with a broad grin. We stepped out on the platform to enter the next car—now was my time—now or never! I looked at the ground—it was tolerably level and covered with grass; the train was running at moderate speed; there was but one way to escape my tormentor. Making my calculations as accurately as possible, I suddenly leaped from the steps of the car; my head and feet seemed driven into one another; I rolled over and over—thought I was dead, was surprised to find I was not dead, picked myself up, shook myself. "Ha! ha! ha!" I laughed hysterically; "I'm out of that scrape, anyway!" "Oh, are you?" said a voice behind me. I whirled about. As true as I'm writing this, there stood that girl! Her hat was knocked off, her nose was bleeding, but she was smiling right in my face. I cast a look of anguish at the retreating train. No one had noticed our mad leap; and the cars were gliding smoothly away—away—leaving me alone on the wide plains with that determined female! [116] [116] CHAPTER XIII. ONE OF THE FAIR SEX COMES TO HIS RESCUE.
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