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"He should have know' dat, too," said Poleon. "Yes," she flared up. "He knew I was only an Indian girl." The only color in Doret's face lay now in his cheeks, where the sun had put it; but he smiled at her his warm, engaging smile and laid his great brown hand upon her shoulder softly. "I've look' in hees eye an' I'm always t'ink he's good man.
Den he fire hees gun, poom! an' more as twenty prob'ly ten shot-buck heet me on the head of it!" Buckshot! "Them's the marble," thought Mr. Peaslee, "but there wasn't but one!" "Ah tol' you dey steeng lak bumbletybees. Ah t'ink me, dat weeked leetly boy goin' for shoot more as once prob'ly mebbe two, t'ree tam. Ah drop queek in de grass, an' Ah run run queek!
"Aha! Le Capitaine Dooncaine," he cried; "and m'sieu hees sone. I salute you both." "Salute me?" cried my father angrily. "After this night's work?" "This night's work, mon capitaine?" he said lightly. "Vy node. I am prisonaire; so is my sheep, and my brave boys. But it ees ze fortune of var." "Yes; the fortune of war," said my father bitterly. "I do node gomplaine myself.
"What did he tell her he had done?" "Oh, he say he keel heem hees cousin. Dot vat I tol' you he done it." "How did he say he killed him?" The silence in the court room was painful in its intensity. The Elder leaned forward and listened with contorted face, and the prisoner held his breath. A pallor overspread his face and his hands were clenched.
She clasped her hands in an ecstasy of unrestrained delight. "Beell Heeks? Oh, señor, I know Beell Heeks. He vas ver' nice fellow, too but no so pretty like you; he old man an' swear Holy Mother, how he swear! He tol' me once come out any time an' see hees mine. I not know vere it vas before. Maybe de angels show me. You vas vat Beell call Stutter Brown, I tink maybe?
You think I've been more alone than's good for me; think of him, shut up with an old woman in her dotage. He was awfully cut up about this affair of old Cameron and the girl, and he is losing all his winter's lumbering for want of a man. Now, there's a fix, if you will, where I say a man is to be pitied." "Yes," said Turrif, gravely, "it is sad; but sat is hees trouble."
Had you no hand in the project? Cap. Againe hees startled: come, he shall to taverne with us and confess all. If he do not strip his soule stark naked to us, say I am no fortune teller. Please you to honour our society: we are going to indulge at the taverne hard by. En. You shall comand me, sir.
Sap-r-r-e! Not long before I pull on dat rope an' get bot on shore. Beeg feller hees all right. De ole boss hees lie white, white and still. I cry on my eye bad. 'Go get someting for dreenk, say beeg feller, 'queek. Sac-r-re! beeg fool messef! Bah! Good for noting! I fin' brandy, an' leele tam, tree-four minute, de ole boss bees sit up all right. Le Bon Dieu hees do good turn dat time, for sure.
'Good bye, I say, 'I not see heem more. Beeg feller hees loose dat rope, ron down on de bank hitching rope on willow tree an' roun' hees own shoulder an' jump on reever way down on bend an' wait for ole boss. For me? I mak dis pony cross ver' queek. Not know how, an' pass on de noder side. I see beeg feller, hees hol' de ole boss on hees coat collar wit bees teef, by gar! an' sweem lak ottar.
I do admire that man's impudence, How he dare speake to any woman. Bon. Why, is he not flesh and blood? Clar. Yes, but I question whether it be mans or no. They talk of changlings: if there be such things I doubt not but hees one of them. Bel. Fie, Sister; 'tis a prettye gent, I know you love him. Clar. You hitt it there, I faith, You know the man? Bon. Yes, very well. Clar.
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