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"Orn's face were yaller'n saffron, wern't it, when Minister Graves said as how he were a cussed pap of a cusseder gal," said Ezy Longman to Jake Brewer and Ben Letts. "He were that mad," agreed Letts, "that the humps on his back just riz up and down he were that mad he were." "But it were screechin' funny when the jedge made the parson speak out what Tess done," laughed Jake Brewer.

"I air listenin'." He was bending so far back now that his shaggy head rested against the shanty boards. Burnett was piercing him with a strange, mesmeric gaze. "Where's Andy Bishop?" boomed like thunder from the warden. That name, though he knew his questioner's errand, so suddenly falling on Orn's ears, congealed his blood and knotted his muscles with fear.

"Not a damn bit," replied Jake Brewer, "don't need it now. Keep the bait cars a floatin' to blind the eyes of some guy that might be a rubberin'. They don't know a minnie from a whale, those city coves don't." "Ain't that Orn's boat comin' under the shadders of the trees?" queried Longman, rising to his feet and wiping his long jack-knife on his blue-jeans breeches.

I calls it the `Banging-smash Polka. But I generally charge hextra for it, for it's dreadful hard on the lungs, and the trombone he gets cross when I mention it, for it nearly bu'sts the hinstrument; besides, it kicks up sich a row that it puts the French 'orn's nose out o' jint you can't 'ear a note of him.

She slipped the letter into her pocket and led the way to the back room. She bent over the bed and roused her father. "Jake air here to see ye, Daddy," she said. "Sit down, Jake! He can't talk very loud, but ye can see he air awful glad to have ye here.... Daddy dear, Jake Brewer air tryin' to shake hands with ye." Orn's great hand lifted slowly. "Glad to see ye, Jake," he mumbled.