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"To be sho', li'l' Marster, to be sho'. Sees 'em mos' any time. Saw one las' Sunday night." "What was it like, Uncle Billy?" "Like, Honey? Like ole Mose, dat's what t'wus like. Does you 'member Mose whar useter drive de hotel hack?" "Yes, he's dead isn't he?" "Yes, suh, daid as a do' nail. Dat's de cur'us part on it. He's daid an' was buried las' Sunday ebenin' buried deep.
It is no use trying to do anything for them while they are made drunk in this way; it's a sin and a shame." "Thet's so, I allow ter yeow," said Aunt Ri. "Thar ain't any gainsayin' thet. But ef yeow've got power ter git a man put in jail fur sellin' whiskey 't 'n Injun, 'n' hain't got power to git him punished ef he goes 'n' kills thet Injun, 't sems ter me thar's suthin' cur'us abaout thet."
If you think better of mine, just let me know within a week, or I may be gone from Hampton." "That's a cur'us boy," said the deacon meditatively. "He's got the most conceited idea of his vally to work of any boy I ever came across. A hundred and fifty dollars and board! What'll Mrs. Pitkin say when I tell her? She ain't much sot on the boy's comin' anyway.
"God's hand was in that," murmured Gregory; "God's hand was in that." "Do you think so, now? Well, it does seem kinder cur'us, and per'aps it was, for somehow I never took to that Hunting, though he seems all right." "Good-by, Mr. Tuggar," said Gregory, rising; "you have given me a good deal to think about, and I'm going to think, and act, too, if I can.
"What has salt ?" "A-ah, an' there's where ye're ign'rant, young feller, wit' all yer buke l'arnin'. 'Tis gold I mean gold thot ye can show t' thim thot gits cur'us. But if it was me, I'd sink me shaf' in a likelier spot than what this spot is I wuddn't be bringing up durt like this, an' be callin' the hole a mine!
We come pretty nigh to one uv them that time we went up the Genesee Valley an' burned the Iroquois towns, but we didn't quite git thar. Cur'us so much fresh water should be put here in a string uv big lakes on our continent." "And the Canadian voyageurs say there are big lakes, too, away up in Canada that no white man has ever seen, but of which they hear from the Indians," said Paul.
And he says, "'Cause I'm scaret o' dyin'," says he; "I'm dreadful scaret o' dyin'." Well, what do you think? That posy jest laughed, the most cur'us little pinky-white laugh 't was, and it says, the Benjamin says: "Dyin'! Scaret o' dyin'? Why, I die myself every single year o' my life." "Die yourself!" says Reuben. "You 're foolin'; you're alive this minute."
The gloom in Andy's face lifted. "I've thought about that a good many times," went on Uncle William. "It's cur'us. You get to know folks that's a good deal nicer than your own folks that you was born and brought up and have lived and quarreled with, and you get to know 'em a good deal better some ways but they ain't the same as your own." Andy's face had grown almost mild.
"Yes, I reckon you will," soothingly. "And the further north we get, the better you'll feel. It's cur'us about the North. The' 's suthin' up there keeps drawin' you like a needle. I've known a man to be cured jut by turnin' and sailin' that way when he was sick. Seem 's if he stopped pullin' against things and just let go. You look to me a little mite tired. I'd go below for a spell if I was you."
"It's cur'us that you git more o' them black pelts around here than anybody else higher up north. You're a sight better hunters than any durned neche on the Peace River. An' them hides is worth more'n five times their weight in gold. You're makin' a pile o' bills. Say, you keep them black pelts snug away wi' other stuff o' value." Gagnon paused and took a deep draught at his coffee.
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