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I reckon thar won't be no more owl hootin' tew-night, leastwise not from that bird," and Ham chuckled. All now returned to the camp and to their blankets; and Ham resumed his watch in the dark shadows under the big tree. Ham was right. There was no more owl hooting that night. But the finding of that finger had brought uneasy thoughts to all.
Right hands across and howdy do? Left and back and how are you? "All hands up and go to the left. Hit the floor. Corners turn and sash-i-ate. First couple cage the bird with three arms around. Bird hop out and hoot-owl in; three arms around and hootin' agin. Whoever bids-in a poke is entitled to eat with the girl who prepared it, and escort her home.
Some time later he was discovered sitting up doggedly on a rock, while a comrade was trying to dig the buckshot out of his thick skull with an arrow-point. "I'll tache 'em to moind their bizniss," grinned Sweeny triumphantly, as he reloaded. "The nasty, hootin' nagers! They've no rights near a white man, anyhow." On the whole, the attack lingered. The Apaches had done some damage.
Sam regarded him steadfastly. "And what have you 'seed, Mr. Fallows, may I ask?" he inquired with fine scorn. "Seed? Seed you bindin', of course." "Well, what are ye hootin' about?" Sam was exceedingly wroth. "I hain't been talking much for the last hour." In moments of excitement Ben became uncertain of his h's.
"I'd bet th' last coonskin in my pack that that's no owl hootin'," Ham muttered softly to himself, fixing his eyes intently on the dark shadows underneath the trees. Suddenly he fancied he saw one of the shadows move. "By gum, I'll chance a shot!" and swiftly throwing his rifle to his shoulder, he fired at the spot where he thought he had seen the shadow move.
The wagons 'ad to pull aside to let some transport motor-lorries past an' One's off-lead that was a new 'orse just come to the Column from Base Remounts an' had some objections to motor-lorries hootin' in his ear an' scrapin' past a eighth of an inch from his nose 'e side-slipped into the ditch.
Howsomevah he made up his min' t'go, an' 'bout nightfall he fin' his way to de ole house by de swamp. It mighty lonely deh and Lijah, he tremmle a bit. He strike a match an' look 'roun'. On de table dey wuz a lamp, an' Lijah, he light de lamp an' feel a heap bettah. Den he set deh a long time, an' all he heah wuz de hootin' of de owls and de crickets a-chirpin' in de grass. Lijah, he drowse a bit.
Macfarlane paused and laughed again. "Well?" said Lorimer, with some interest "Did you meet him there?" "That did I but no to speak to him he was for too weel lookit after to need my services," and Macfarlane rubbed his great hands together with an irrepressible chuckle. "There was a crowd o' hootin' laddies round him, an' he was callin' on the heavens to bear witness to his purity.
They heat a lot o' rocks an' roll 'em into a pen made o' sticks put in crotches an' covered over with skins an' blankets. The hot rocks turn it into a kind o' oven. They all crawl in thar an' begin to sweat an' hoot an' holler. You kin hear 'em a mile off. It's a reg'lar hootin' match. I'd call it a kind o' camp meetin'. When they holler it means that the devil is lettin' go.
It was the entire sum, untouched. "Have you got a sup o' whiskey, Mr. Gilbert?" Deb. Smith asked. "Ugh! I'm hot and out o' breath, and yet I feel mortal cold. There was a screech-owl hootin' in the cedar; and I dunno how't is, but there always seems to be things around, where money's buried. You can't see 'em, but you hear 'em. Mary Potter set the kettle on the fire, and Deb.
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