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"Yes," broke in Bub, "and he tol' us how you carried Loretty from town on a mule behind ye, and she jest a-sassin' you, an' as how she said she was a-goin' to git you fer HER sweetheart." Hale glanced by chance at the little girl. Her face was scarlet, and a light dawned. "An' sis, thar, said he was a-tellin' lies an' when she growed up she said she was a-goin' to marry "
There was an old man and woman from New Hampshire in one berth, and when the monk got in their berth and began to talk the Newport language, the old man thought it was me, and he said: "Now, bub, you go away to your pa." The monk went out, and got into another berth, and crawled under the bunk, and when the woman came in to go to bed, she looked under it to see if any man was there.
"Look-a-hyar, bub," said Jubal Perkins, with both hands in his pockets and glaring down solemnly at Rufe; "ef ever I ketches ye goin' of yerrands no better'n that ag'in, I'm a-goin' ter TAN that thar hide o' yourn." Rufe gazed up deprecatingly, his eyes widening at the prospect. Byers broke into a horse laugh. "We've been wantin' some leetle varmints fur tanning ennyhow," he said.
Her father was out feeding the stock and she could hear her step-mother in the kitchen. Bub still slept soundly, and she shook him by the shoulder. "Git up, Bub." "Go 'way," said Bub fretfully. Again she started to shake him but stopped Bub wasn't going to the Gap, so she let him sleep.
On a hill, thet car's a cat; on a level stretch, she's a jack-rabbit. I've seen Will Morrison take 'er ter Millbank an' back in a hour jus' one lonesome hour!" "That must have been in its good days," observed Mary Louise. "The thing hasn't any tires on it now." "Will takes the tires off ev'ry year, when he goes away, an' puts 'em in the cellar," explained Bub.
"GONE HUNTIN'!" ejaculated Rufe in dudgeon, joining unceremoniously in the conversation of his elders. "Now, Birt mought hev let me know! I'd hev wanted ter go along too." "Mebbe that air the reason he never tole ye, bub," said Perkins dryly. For he could appreciate that Rufe's society was not always a boon, although he took a lenient view of the little boy.
"Trail go towards cabin," replied the sagacious red man; "couldn't follow trail; shoot Long Hair if he follow trail." "I think that Long Hair is right," said the general, striking the table with the flat of his hand: "your boys were born to be heroes, madam. If I mistake not, that Charlie and Bub of yours were the defenders of that cabin against the savages.
"Run, bub, and pick him up," said Plutarch, dropping the butt of the rifle and resting it carelessly on the toe of his shoe. Dominick hesitated, but the black man, Scipio, who had drawn near to witness the shooting, trudged away to the foot of the tree, where he found a dead woodpecker lying on the ground.
He threatened and cajoled by turns, but failed in the slightest to shake Bub's statements, and at last ordered him out of his presence. By some oversight, Bub was not put in anybody's charge, and wandered up on deck unobserved. Sometimes the sailors, in passing, bent curious glances upon him, but otherwise he was left strictly alone.
As the first whiff of smoke wreathed over his head, he said, "What air the differ ter ye, Andy, whether 't war bub, hyar, or Birt, ez dressed up the blackberry bush? ye 'pear ter make a differ a-twixt 'em." Still Byers was evasive. "Whar's Birt, ennyhow?" he demanded irrelevantly.
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