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"'Well, dey ain't p'intin' yo' way, sez I, 'an', fuddermo', ef you don't bodder longer dem hogs dey ain't gwineter clime outer dat pen an' 'tack you, nudder," sez I.
"Bodder de ole han'! Oh, how um do hurt!" "Can't you sleep, Pomp?" I whispered, as I crept softly to his side. "Dat you, Mass' George?" "Yes; I say, can't you sleep?" "Yes, Mass' George. Pomp can't sleep ebber so, but dis 'tupid han' won't let um." "Does it hurt?" "Yes. Big hot fly in um keep goin' froo. Pomp goin' take off de rag." "No, no; let it be; it will soon be better. Go to sleep."
Damer; up came Abdallah; up came M. Delabordeau; up came Mr. Ingram, and at last she was rescued. "You shouldn't go away and leave me to the mercy of these nasty people. As to that Abdallah, he is of no use to anybody." "Why you bodder de good lady, you dem blackguard?" said Abdallah, raising his stick, as though he were going to lay them all low with a blow. "Now you get noting, you tief!"
"Dere's a good 'eal er sportin' blood in de old gen'l'man, Pete; a good 'eal er sportin' blood," he remarked, with the utmost cheerfulness. "Bein' a sportin' man myself I ainter goin' back on a frien'." "You're goin' back on your word fast enough!" said Pete bitterly. "No, I aint. I toljer I wouldn't bodder you. I didn't guarantee nobody else.
"My, but I'd be sorry for any mistaken ghost that tried to have a set-to with her," laughed Laura. "She'd just laugh at them and say: 'Shoo, ghost, don't bodder me." "All right, let's ask her," decided Billie. "Now that we have made up our minds to change Cherry Corners into a summer resort, I can't wait to get started." "If only the folks will be willing," said Violet, looking worried.
"Those Indians," said Jack, ignoring the absurdity of Otto's question, "saw such running as they never looked upon before. Deerfoot just scooted away from them, as though he had wings. One of the Hurons had treated him very bad and Deerfoot paid him." "How vosn't dot?" "He drove his tomahawk through his skull." "Yaw; I dinks he doesn't bodder Deerfoot not much more."
Turning to that stalwart guardian in petticoats who watched over the two sisters from Chicago, one of whom had married a Belgian nobleman, Brenda shrugged her massive shoulders. "You must ask Mademoiselle Aida. I was mooch too warm; yes, vera mooch. Yes la la! We Flemings know what cold is more than what it is to be too too warm. Don' you bodder, sar!"
'I got a gol'-mine er my own, one w'at I make myse'f, en I speck we better go back ter mine 'fo' we bodder 'longer yone, sezee. "Den ole Brer Buzzard, he laff, he did, twel he shake, en Brer Rabbit, he sing out: "'Hol' on, Brer Buzzard! Don't flop yo' wings w'en you laff, kaze den if you duz, sump'n 'ill drap fum up yer, en my gol'-mine won't do you no good, en needer will yone do me no good.
Wait till to-morrow. Eve'thing proper. You no bodder, sar." "No bother, hey? Damned simple, ain't it?" swore the mate, striving to scrutinize the impassive gargoyle face above him. "No bodder. I know. My man, he see eve'thing. Schooner no can sail, hey? All ri'. Bring men here. To-morrow p'isen dat dog, I tell you. Misser Vand'see, he say so. He know all things, sar."
She could even make out the cassock and square cap of Mr. Bodder as he moved among his flock.
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