I thought that if all the hills about there were pure chink, and all belonged to me, I would give them if I could just talk to her as I wanted to.

But I was afraid to begin; for when I would think of saying anything to her, my heart would begin to flutter like a duck in a puddle.

And if I tried to outdo it and speak, it would get right smack up in my throat, and choke me like a cold potato.

It bore on my mind in this way, till at last I concluded I must die if I didn't broach the subject.

So I determined to begin and hang on a-trying to speak, till my heart would get out of my throat one way or t'other.
"And so one day at it I went, and after several trials I could say a little.