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Mad acted as if he owned me already when he was home last, and yet he knows I can't abide him. He seems to think I can be subdued like one of his skittish horses." "You HAB got a heap on yo' min", Miss Lou, you sho'ly hab. You sut'ny t'ink too much for a young gyurl." "I'm eighteen, yet uncle and aunt act toward me in some ways as if I were still ten years old. How can I help thinking?
Thu boy was tow-haided an' ornary; thu gyurl were a roan, even redder'n me! I think she were thu freckledst critter I eveh see, an' ugly! Say, honest, she was afeared to look inter a lookin' glass an' every time she see her face axcidental she hollered! "Thet outfit were shore onlucky!
We are none of us in a mood for trifling to-day." Then the old woman's wrath burst out. "You 'speck I'se feared ter speak fer dat chile w'at stan' by me so? Bettah be keerful yosef, mistis; you alls gittin' on ve'y scarey groun' wid Miss Lou. You tink you kin do wid her w'at you pleases des ez ef she a lil gyurl baby. I reck'n her moder come out'n her grabe ter look arter you ef you ain' keerful."
Make no complaint if ye do she'll hate ye, like as not; for when a gyurl has wronged a man she hates him for it. Merely kape still. Ye've met your first reverse, an' ye've had your outposts cut up a bit, an' ye think the ind o' the worrld has come.
I say it needn't have happened. And then think how Uncle Lusthah prayed!" "Chunk down dar by de run, Miss Lou," whispered Zany. "I lis'n wid all my years en eyes." "Miss Lou, I'se yere in de shadder ob dis bush," Chunk called softly. "Tell me everything." "Darsn't twel I feels mo' safe, Miss Lou. Kin on'y say now Marse Scoville des dote on you en he ax questions 'bout you sence you lil gyurl.
The old soldier selected a smooth rock and splashed it with tobacco juice before he continued with rising indignation against himself. "I'm a fine father for a gyurl like that, ain't I? Up to date I always had an idee I was some sort of a man, but dad gum it! I cayn't see it hyer. To think of me lettin' my little gyurl stand the consequences of my meanness. No, Mr.
An' ye licked the dirthy spalpane, an' got away wid his gyurl! Glory be! And would Oi take her? Well, Oi would. Niver doubt that, me bye. She may be the quane av Shaba, an' she may be a Digger Injun Squaw, but the loikes av him had betther kape away from Kate Murphy. It's glad Oi am ter do it! Bring her in. Oi don't want ter hear no more."
"Tut, tut! me boy," he said, "I well know how your wishes lie. It's a noble gyurl ye've chosen, as a noble man should do. She may change her thought to-morrow. It's change is the wan thing shure about a woman." Franklin shook his head mutely, but Battersleigh showed only impatience with him. "Go on with your plans, man," said he, "an' pay no attintion to the gyurl!
To save us. Shall we send him back under a rifle guard? Or shall we have Sheriff Brandt come and get him?" "Gracious goodness, gyurl, shet up whilst I think. Killed a man, eh? This valley has always been open to fugitives. Ain't that right, Jed?" "To fugitives, yes," said Jed significantly. "But that fact ain't proved." "Jed's getting right important.
Well, he's give up that notion, and now he thinks, dad gum it, that it's up to him to surrender to Brandt again." The girl's eyes were like stars. "And he's going to go back there and give himself up, to be tried for killing Faulkner." Dillon scratched his head. "By gum, gyurl, I didn't think of that. We cayn't let him go." "Yes, we can." "Why, honey, he didn't kill Faulkner, looks like.
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