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You see yoreself how it would be, Pete. Her a li'l' trick with nobody but me. I ain't no great shakes, but at that I'm all she's got. I figured that 'way off here, under another name, they prob'ly never would find me." "Pretty good guess, Pete Purdy." "Don' call me that," begged Tolliver. Houck showed his teeth in an evil grin. "I forgot. What I was sayin' was that nobody knows you're here but me.
'Ca'se li'l' black Mose he come' a-fumblin' an' a-rattlin' at de do' jes whin dat ghost-tale mos' skeery, an' yiver'body gwine imaginate dat he a ghost a-fumblin' an' a-rattlin' at de do'. Yas, sah. So li'l' black Mose he turn' he white head, an' he look' roun' an' peer' roun', an' he say': "Whut you all skeered fo'?" 'Ca'se ef anybody skeered, he want' to be skeered, too. Dat 's natural.
"Yas," say li'l black Mose, "I done met up wid him." "An' did old Bloody Bones done tol' you dey ain' no ghosts?" say Zack Badget. "Yas," say li'l black Mose, "he done tell me perzactly dat." "Well, if he tol' you dey ain' no ghosts," say Zack Badget, "I got to 'low dey ain't no ghosts, 'ca'se he ain't gwine tell no lie erbout it.
An' whin he say dat, de ghosts jes natchully vanish away, an' li'l black Mose he proceed up de paff. He so scared he hair jes yank at de roots, an' when de wind go "Oo-oo-oo-o-o," an' de owl go, "Whut-whoo-o-o-o!" an' de rain-doves go, "You-you-o-o-o!" he jes tremble an' shake.
"Peaches," said Racey, "le's go where we can have a li'l private talk." "All right," Peaches acquiesced, shortly, and left the saloon with Racey. On the sidewalk they were joined by Swing Tunstall. The latter fell into step on the other side of Peaches Austin. "Is he coming, too?" queried the gambler, with a marked absence of cordiality in expression and tone. "He is," answered Racey.
But byme-by Sally Ann, whut live' up de road, draps in, an' Mistah Sally Ann, whut is her husban', he draps in, an' Zack Badget an' de school-teacher whut board' at Unc' Silas Diggs's house drap in, an' a powerful lot ob folks drap in. An' li'l' black Mose he seen dat gwine be one s'prise-party, an' he right down cheerful 'bout dat.
He rose to his feet with perplexity in his dark eyes, mechanically pulling up the bleached leather thigh-boots he wore afloat and ashore, "rainy-come-fine." Inspiration had come, as it does to men of the West once the need is realised to the full. "Du 'ee mind that there li'l' ole copper boiler what come out o' granfer's house when 'er blawed down back tu '98?" asked Young Jarge slowly.
"Uh-huh; Li'l Abner Melroy; po'k chops unless otherwise specified." Keating got up and went out into the middle office. As he opened the door. Melroy could hear a recording of somebody being given a word-association test. Half an hour later, when the food arrived, they spread their table on a relatively clear desk in the middle office.
An' li'l black Mose jes moan an' sob: "'Scuse me! 'Scuse me, Mistah King! Ah ain't mean no harm at all." But nobody ain't pay no attintion to him at all, 'ca'se yevery one lookin' at a monstrous big ha'nt whut name Bloody Bones, whut rose up an' spoke. "Your Honor, Mistah King, an' gin'l'min an' ladies," he say, "dis am a right bad case ob lazy majesty, 'ca'se de king been step on.
"Looks like Punch-the-breeze Thompson," said Mr. Saltoun. "It is Thompson," confirmed Racey. "Didn't it strike you he sort of hesitated a li'l bit when he first seen us like a man would whose breakfast didn't rest easy on his stomach, as you might say." Mr. Saltoun nodded. "He did sway back on them lines at the top."
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