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"Well done, Master Reynolds!" observed Boone, musingly, spurning the body with his foot, turning away, and resuming his journey: "You're a brave young man; and I'll bet my life to a bar-skin, did your best under the sarcumstances; and ef it's possible, we'll do somewhat for you in return."
I undressed myself, the light blowing out in the middle of that ceremony, crawled under the "bar-skin," and tried to compose myself to sleep. But I was staringly wide awake. I heard the wind sweep down the mountain-side, and toss the branches of the melancholy pine, and then enter the house, and try all the doors along the passage.
And you! trapesin' through the hall with her on yer shoulder, and dancin' and jouncin' her up and down ez if it was a ball-room!" A guilty recollection that he had skipped with her through the passage struck him with remorse as his aunt went on: "It's a mercy that betwixt you and the wet bar-skin she ain't got her deth!"
"He's got it!" said a second. "I knew it I'd ha' bet a bar-skin he'd fetch it," cried a third. "Out with it, Ike, afore you forget it," shouted the fourth. "Hold your jabbering tongues !" cried Isaac, in vexation. "You're enough to bother a feller to death. I'd like to see some o' the rest on ye cramped up fur a toast, jest to see how you'd feel with all on 'em hollering like."
The window was too small for the hole in the side of the house where it hung, and rattled noisily. Everything looked cheerless and dispiriting. Before Ingomar left me, he brought that "bar-skin," and throwing it over the solemn bier which stood in one corner, told me he reckoned that would keep me warm, and then bade me good night.
Possibly some suggestion in her figure of speech reminded her of Jeff's forgotten duties, so she added in the same breath and tone, "especially when transient customers is waiting for their licker, and Yuba Bill hammerin' on the counter with his glass; and yer ye stand, Jeff, never even takin' up that wet bar-skin enuff to give that young woman her death."
I have my old cloak and my saddle; and it wouldn't be the first time, by hundreds, I've slept in the open air." "My reezuns for askin' you air, that if you ain't sure o' one, an' don't mind stretching' yourself on a bar-skin, thar's such a thing in my shanty entirely at your sarvice." "It is very kind of you. Perhaps I may have occasion to avail myself of your offer.
Sometimes strong currents of air blew my hair all over the pillow, as with strange whispering breaths. The green timber along the walls seemed to be sprouting, and sent a dampness even through the "bar-skin." I felt like Robinson Crusoe in his tree, with the ladder pulled up, or like the rocked baby of the nursery song.
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