he. "I don't wonder. I rather live with a she bear."

I have omitted and shall omit the oaths and curses with which his talk
was flavored.

"I'm gittin' out o' this country myself," said he. "It's too pious for
me."

By and by we passed Rovin' Kate. I could just discern her ragged form by
the roadside and called to her. He struck his horse and gave me a rude
shake and bade me shut up.

It was dark and I felt very cold and began to wish myself home in bed.

"Ain't we most to the Dunkelbergs'?" I asked.

"No--not yet," he answered.

I burst into tears and he hit me a sounding whack in the face with his
hand.

"No more whimperin'," he shouted. "Do ye hear me?"

He hurt me cruelly and I was terribly frightened and covered my face and
smothered my cries and was just a little quaking lump of misery.

He shook me roughly and shoved me down on the buggy floor and said:

"You lay there and keep still; do you hear?"