It isn't only what Baumberger thinks--I don't know as ho's got anything to say about it--it's what _I_ think.

I know I'm only a woman, and you all consider yourselves men, whether you are or not, and it's beneath your dignity, maybe, to listen to your mother.
"But your mother has seen the day when she was counted on as much, almost, as if she'd been a man.

Why, great grief! I've stood for hours peeking out a knot-hole in the wall, with that same old shotgun Donny got hold of, ready to shoot the first Injun that stuck his nose from behind a rock." The color came into her cheeks at the memory, and a sparkle into her eyes.

"I've seen real fighting, when it was a life-and-death matter.
I've tended to the men that were shot before my eyes, and I've sung hymns over them that died.

You boys have grown up on some of the stories about the things I've been through.
"And here last night," she reproached irritatedly, "I heard someone say: 'Oh, come on--we're scaring Mum to death!' The idea! 'scaring Mum!' I can tell you young jackanapes one thing: If I thought there was anything to be gained by it, or if it would save trouble instead of MAKING trouble, 'MUM' could go down there right now, old as she is, and SCARED as she is, and clean out the whole, measly outfit!" She stared sternly at the row of faces bent over their plates.
"Oh, you can laugh--it's only your mother!" she exclaimed indignantly, when she saw Jack's eyes go shut and Gene's mouth pucker into a tight knot.