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Both Dan'l and Dave's kinder fiery, 'n' they'd nuther on 'em hev give in with Dusk a-lookin' on they'd hev cut theirselves to pieces fust. Young folks is so foolish; gettin' mad about a gal! Lord knows gals is plenty enough." "Not girls like this one," said Miss Noble, laughing a little. "Waal now, she is good-lookin', aint she? But she's cur'us, Dusk is she's a cur'us creetur."
What's that suit of clothes cost you you got on? 'Pears like we'd have some rain, don't it? Say, doc, that Indian of yorn's on a kind of a whizz to-night, ain't he? He comes along just before you did, and I told him about this here occurrence. He gives a cur'us kind of a hoot, and trotted off. I guess our constable 'll have him in the lock-up 'fore morning.
Clayton easily identified Europa, as he had christened her; the simple mention of her means of transport was sufficient. Ridin' a bull, was she? " repeated the old man, laughing. "Well, that was Easter Hicks, old Bill Hicks' gal. She's a sort o' connection o' mine. Me and Bill married cousins. She's a cur'us critter as ever I seed.
'Cur'us talk! he said, one evening, as I paused a moment, while he crossed the room for a drink of water. 'Don' seem t' make no kind O' sense. I can make out a word here 'n there but fer good, sound, common sense I call it a purty thin crop. Hope wrote me every week for a time. A church choir had offered her a place soon after she went to the big city.
I wasn't skeered, but I had three chills and a stroke of palsy in less than five minits, and my face had a cur'us brownish-yaller-greenbluish color in it, which was perfectly unaccountable. 'Well, say I, 'comment is super-flu-ous."
"Hit's kind o' sort o' glor'us when yo' feels so quare an' cur'us, An' yo' don' know what it is yo' wants ter do; But I takes de chances on it 'at hit jes can't be injur'us When de whole endurin' natur tells yo' to! "Den wake up, niggah, see de sassafras in bloom! Lis'n how de sleepy wedder blow! An' de robin in de haw bush an' de young gal in de loom Is er-singin' so sof' an' low."
"'Must we be kerried to the skies On feathery beds of ease? Though I don' know's I oughter quote a hymn on such a matter; but then I don' know's there's any partic'lar harm in't, neither." Eph sat down on a pile of shavings and chewed a sliver; and the old man kept on at his work. "Hoop-poles goin' up and hoops goin' down," he continued. "Cur'us, ain't it?
Bet ye they're some o' them bushwhackers o' Fitzgibbon. Got loops all over their uniforms, so ye c'u'd stick 'em full o' boughs. Jerushy! never see nuthin' s' joemightful cur'us 'n all my born days never." He stopped a breath, and then added: "Could n't be nuthin' cur'user 'n thet." We hired team and wagon of the innkeeper, and a man to paddle up-river and return with the horses.
There's things about her I don't know," he nodded toward the picture. "She may not go to church and I don't doubt but what she has tantrums, but she's better'n we be, and she What did you say her name was?" "Sergia Lvova." "Sergia Lvova," repeated the old man, slowly, yet with a certain ease. "That's a cur'us name. I've heard suthin' like it, somewhere " "She's Russian." "Russian jest so!
He got so worked up, and got to running on so about his troubles, he forgot all about what he'd been a-going to do. So Tom says: "What's the vittles for? Going to feed the dogs?" The nigger kind of smiled around gradually over his face, like when you heave a brickbat in a mud-puddle, and he says: "Yes, Mars Sid, A dog. Cur'us dog, too. Does you want to go en look at 'im?" "Yes."
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