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I'm shure we hadna abune a moofu' o' tea drucken, an' Sandy was juist awa' to tak' aff' the ham, when the fryin' pan was knockit ooten his hand, an' doon the lum cam' a pozel o' bricks an' shute that wudda filled a cairt. Sandy fell back ower an' knockit Mistress Kenawee richt i' the flure.
There Uncle Coffin seized Captain Pharo again and threw him delightedly several feet off into a chair. "Ye're weary, Pharo, dodrabbit ye! Set thar'. Repose. Repose. Wait 'tell the flapjacks is ready. They're fryin'. Smell 'em?" We perceived their odor, and that of the wild strawberries and coffee which Mrs. Lester had taken from her circle-basket.
"I dropped into a joint called The Reception, and who'd I see playing 'bank' but 'Single Out' Wilmer, the worst gambler on the river. Mounted police had him on the woodpile in Dawson, then tied a can on him. At the same table was a nice, tender Philadelphia squab, 'bout fryin' size, and while I was watching, Wilmer pulls down a bet belonging to it. That's an old game.
When hit comes to handlin' a right peert gal, Jeb Somers air about the porest man on Fryin' Pan, I reckon; an' Polly Ann Sturgill have got the vineg'rest tongue on Cutshin or any other crick. So the boys over on Fryin' Pan made it up to git 'em together. An' he tol' Polly Ann that Jeb was ravin' crazy 'bout her.
When her young mistress ceased speaking she shook her head slowly. "Well," she observed, "it looks some like hoppin' out of the fryin' pan into the fire, but, even if it turns out that way, perhaps it's just as well to be roasted as fried. Humph! no, 'twon't do to tell anybody. I shan't, and you mustn't." "I don't intend to." "Um! Not even John Doane?"
And the very next time she went to kissin' the dog so voyalently as not to notice us, my Josiah whispered to me and sez, "Did you have any idee that wuz what the old man wuz a doin'? I knew he wuz always a settin' up there in the moon, but it never passed my mind that he wuz a fryin' potatoes." But I sez, "Keep still, Josiah.
When it got to be mornin', it didn't seem no cooler; there wa'n't a breath of wind, and the locusts in the woods chittered as though they was fryin'. Our hired man was an old Scotchman, by name Simon Grant; and when he'd got his breakfast, he said he'd go down the clearin' and bring up a load of brush for me to burn.
"Are back teeth extracted in that way?" "Yes, sir; any kind of a tooth. I've burnt my holler teeth out with a red-hot wire." "Good God!" "Hit's so. The wire'd sizzle like fryin'." "Kill the nerve?" "No; but it'd sear the mar so it wouldn't be so sensitive." "Didn't hurt, eh?" "Hurt like hell for a moment. I held the wire one time for Jim Bob Jimwright, who couldn't reach the spot for hisself.
Go tell Mandy Calline ter git th' milk-pitcher 'n' go to the cow-pen 'n' fetch some milk fer breakfus. No tellin' when they'll git thoo out there. Then you hurry back 'n' finish fryin' that pan o' pertaters. No need ter 'sturb gra'mammy till breakfus is ready ter put on th' table; 'n' yer pappy 'n' th' boys'll ha' ter wash when they come from th' lot."
He'd traced Ping plumb ercross ther desert ter get ter us, an', o' course, we couldn't sic him home after that. "We all got ter love Ezra fer his lovely ways; that is, all except 'Boney Bill' Henderson." "Why? Didn't the goat like him?" "Well, it wuz this way: Boney Bill had a habit o' beggin' ther grease from ther fryin' pan every night ter ile his boots.
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