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"Nothin' but Twinklin' Island an' father an' me." There was silence then, but the Man watched the strong, straight lines of her face, her keen black eyes, her wealth of black hair tumbled into the back-fallen sunbonnet. At length he said quietly: "Think I'll g'long over with you to your island, camarada. Maybe your father's got a bite o' something for a hungry man. I pay the freight, sabe?
The king says, timid, and still a-snuffling: "Why, duke, it was you that said make up the deffisit; it warn't me." "Dry up! I don't want to hear no more out of you!" says the duke. "And NOW you see what you GOT by it. They've got all their own money back, and all of OURN but a shekel or two BESIDES. G'long to bed, and don't you deffersit ME no more deffersits, long 's YOU live!"
"G'long!" said Liberty Jones, more than ever convinced of his badinage. "Fact," said Hoskins energetically. "Why, Doc would tell ye so, too. See ef he don't!" At this Liberty Jones felt her face grow hot. "You jess get!" she said, turning away in as much embarrassment as anger. Yet he hovered near her with awkward attentions that pleased while it still angered her.
"What are you doing there, you imp of darkness?" exclaimed Marcy. "Didn't you understand that we don't want any Abolitionists aboard of us this trip?" "G'long now, honey," replied the boy, turning his head on one side and waving Marcy away with his hand. "Ise heah 'cording to Marse Jack's orders."
Tom was sober enough now. There was no levity in his voice when he answered: "Yes, Mother, I know, now, that I am reformed and permanently. Permanently and beyond the reach of any human temptation." "Den g'long home en begin!" Nothing so needs reforming as other people's habits. Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar
"G'long, Pete, that ere's good." "Complains," began the reader again. "Go back tew the beginnin Pete, I los' the hang on't." "Yes, go back a leetle, Pete. It be mos'z long ez a sermon." "Shell I begin tew the beginnin?" "Yes, begin tew the beginnin agin, so's we'll all on us git the hang."
Ye-es, yes, yes. G'long, gal." The buggy moved away from the platform. Its passenger, his chilly feet and legs tightly wrapped in the robes, drew a breath of relief between his chattering teeth. He was actually going somewhere at last; whatever happened, morning would not find him propped frozen stiff against the scarred and mangy clapboards of the South Harniss station.
The stick was arrested in mid-air when she saw Clayton, and then dropped harmlessly. The quick fire in her eyes died suddenly away, and for a moment the two looked at each other with mutual curiosity, but only for a moment. There was something in Clayton's gaze that displeased her. Her face clouded, and she dropped her eyes. "G'long," she said, in a low tone.
Admiral 'S I Sums-it-up was turning his horse about. "I believe you and me 's got a bet on, ain't we, adm'r'l?" said Captain Pharo. "I told 'em 'twas wastin' waggin ile to come down here to c'lect. G'long! ye old fool! Git up! ye old skate! 'S I sums it up, bet ye, goin' 'tween here and the Point I could scrape twenty-five pound o' mud off 'n yer kerridge time ye gits thar', Kobbe.
You can shout! G'long, mules!" During the evening, Dell read Forrest's letter again and again. "Keep busy until the herds arrive," it read. "Enlarge your water supply and plan to acquire more cattle." "That's our programme," said Joel. "We'll put in two dams between here and the trail. Mr. Quince has never advised us wrong, and he'll explain things when he comes.
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