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I see you doan want ter be a free gyurl. I'se tell Marse Scoville you no 'count niggah." "W'at you want anyhow, imperdence?" "I wants sup'n ter eat. Does you 'spects I kin ride all night en all day ter brung you freedom, en den not eben git a good word? You ain' fit fer freedom. I'se tell some nachel-bawn fool ter gib you a yaller rib'on en den dere be two ob you."
They are built a-puppos, like a woodpecker, an' mizzery nacherally poahs upon 'em when everybody else is so allfired happy that it hurts. They was foah on 'em, two ole ones an' a couple o' kids, boy 'n gyurl, 'bout sixteen yeahs ole, each." "How old, each?" asked Douglass, artlessly. "'Bout sixteen yeah ole, each, I said, an' I didn't stuttah, neither! They was twinneds.
"See yere, Miss Lou," and Zany sank her voice to a whisper, "dere's a Linkum man" "Hush! how did you know that?" "Chunk en me's fren's. Don' be 'feard, fer I'd like ter see de gyurl dat kin beat me playin' possum. Dat Linkum man he'p you ter run away." "For shame, Zany! The idea of my going away with a stranger!"
The old man caught her by the shoulder, holding her at arm's length, while the deep eyes under his shaggy, grizzled brows pierced her. "What have you got to tell me, gyurl? Out with it!" But on the heels of his imperative demand came reassurance. A tide of color poured into her face, but her eyes met his quietly.
Misther Daniel O'Shea, of County Kerry, stated that the great hippotamus had actually been named Miss Murphy! A hijeous baste from a dissolute counthry inhabited wid black nagurs, to be named after an Oirish gyurl! Mr. O'Shea uncorked the vials of his wrath, and poured out his anger with a bubble, the meeting palpitating with hair-raising horror. Some other animal was called Miss Bridget.
But tin to wan, if ye lie still under cover, she'll be sendin' out skirmishers to see where ye are an' what ye are doin'. Now, ye love the gyurl, I know, an' so do I, an' so does ivery man that ivver saw her, for she's the sort min can't help adorin'. But, mind me, kape away. Don't write to her. Don't make poetry about her God forbid! Don't do the act o' serrynadin' in anny way whativver.
For a moment the gambler glared fiendishly at the imperturbable man facing him; his body was quivering all over with illy suppressed hate and fury. He crouched like a wild beast preparing to spring, his hands opening and closing nervously. Then out of the silence came the nasal humming of Red: "Yeah's to thu gyurl thet is faih an' kind, An' yeah's to thu man who is game!"
Dubiously he took himself to the stable and said good-by to Dillon. An hour later she went down to dinner still flushed and excited. Before she had been in the room two minutes her father gave her a piece of startling news. "I been talking to Steve. Gracious, gyurl, what do you reckon that boy's a-goin' to do?" Arlie felt the color leap into her cheeks. "What, dad?"
Barnes closed the sliding-doors and prudently reassured Nichol: "You have done your best, Captain, and that is all I asked of you. Remain here quietly and look at your picture for a little while, and then you shall have a good long rest." "I did try, Doctor," protested Nichol, anxiously. "Gee wiz! I reckon a feller orter try ter please sech a purty gyurl. She tole me lots.
"I haven't doubted that a moment since I knew she did it," said Bellamy quietly. "Glad to hear it. I be'n misjudgin' you, seh, but you're a white man afteh all. Well, you know the rest of the story: how she held up the stage, how Jack drapped in befo' our tracks were covered, how smart he worked the whole thing out, and how my little gyurl confessed to him to save me." "Yes, I know all that."
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