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An' dey wuz a- drillin' an' a-drillin' all 'bout for a while, an' dey went 'long wid all de res' o' de army, an' I went wid Marse Chan an' clean he boots, an' look arfter de tent, an' tek keer o' him an' de hosses. An' Marse Chan, he wan' a bit like he use' to be. He wuz so solumn an' moanful all de time, at leas' 'cep' when dyah wuz gwine to be a fight.
I 'lows you're 'bout the on'y man in these parts 'cep' Abe Horsley as fancies hisself enough to wear one. Wher's them things, I ask you? Say," he went on after a moment's pause, during which Jim still remained silent, "I accuse this lousy skunk publicly of murderin' Will Henderson. He's convicted hisself out o' his own mouth, an' he's got the man's blood on his hands.
He said to the indifferent bartender who had just served him: "'F you knew what I know 'bout Germany, you'd be won'ful man! I'M won'ful man. I know something! Going tell, too. Going see 'thorities this afternoon. Going tell 'em great secret!... Grea' milt'ry secret! Tell 'em all 'bout it! Grea' secresh! Nobody knows grea'-sekresh 'cep m'self! Whaddya thinka that?
An' fer five years this same lousy Lightfoot gang has just been helpin' 'emselves to the cattle on the ranches around here liberal. Same as youse fellers have helped yourselves out o' this bottle. An', durin' that time, I ain't heard tell of one o' them boys who's been spoilin' to hang 'em all doin' a thing. Not a thing, 'cep' it's lap up whisky to keep up a supply o' hot air.
"He hain't widened nothin' 'cep' the circle he's ett in pasture. They feed words fer beddin' where he comes from." "It's elegant talkin', though," Tuck returned, with an unconvinced toss of her pretty, lean little head. The yellow horse heard her, and struck an attitude which he meant to be extremely impressive. It made him look as though he had been badly stuffed.
"Guess you've always been a child to me," he said. "An' kiddies ain't bustin' with brain generly. However, I don't reckon you're foolish. 'Cep' when you git around that Reservation," he added thoughtfully. There was a brief silence. The man avoided the violet eyes. He seemed afraid to look at them. Rosebud's presence somehow made things hard for him.
'Min' 'at my grannie's been the best frien' ye ever had. ''Cep' my ain mither, returned Shargar, with a sleepy doggedness in his tone. During their conference, Ericson had been slumbering. Robert had visited him from time to time, but he had not awaked. As soon as Shargar was disposed of, he took his candle and sat down by him. He grew more uneasy.
There was every sort of emotion in the echo of the word as the saloon-keeper glanced vengefully across at a window through which the sun was pouring. "Guess we don't grow ice around these parts, 'cep' when we don't need it, an' I don't guess the railroad's discovered they hatched Orrville out yet. We got lager in soak, an' lager by the keg, down in a cool celler.
"Ow! nae fear o' yer lordship's nose,'cep' it be frae yer lordship's hose, my lord!" said Grizzie, "for I doobt ye're birstlin' yer lordship's shins! I'll tak the cratur oot to the cairt-shed, an' sing' 't there first. But 'deed I wadna advise ye to gang to yer room a minute afore ye need, for it winna be that warm the nicht.
Sulphur matches ain't good fer 'em to suck. I ain't got nothing to say 'bout the sulphur, but the phospherus is sure injurious, an', anyway, it's easy settin' 'emselves afire. Kids is ter'ble fond of sand, an' gravel, an' mud, inside an' out. Outside ain't no harm, 'cep' it keps you washin' 'em, but inside's likely to give 'em colic. Don't let 'em climb on tables an' things.
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