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 "I'd shorely slay him in the tracks, Mary," said her lover, "and I would jump upon him, and become ravin', tearin' luny, and turn myself loose upon the town and do up all my enemies."

"Oh dear! oh dear!" said Mary, "I think men are dreadful. Would you really do all that?"

"I would," replied Jack; "shore pop I'd do it."

"And what should I feel like?"

"You'd shorely be sad and lonesome, both bein' dead," replied Jack. "But I reckon you don't love no one better, do you, Mary?"

"No," said Mary; "but I think you are foolish all the same, and I shall write to Mamie and tell her about it."

Jack looked awfully alarmed.

"You won't do that, Mary; she'll be on to me like, oh, like a coyoot on a sick sheep, and I'll feel as mean as if I was raised East."

"You shouldn't interfere then in what isn't your business," said Mary. "I'll write now, and you shall take the letter to her."