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"All the people on ot'er side the river call my fat'er head man. When there is trouble all come to our house to talk to my fat'er because he is educate'. He got good sense. "Before, I tell you there is good fur here. It is the truth. But the people are poor. Every year they are more poor as last year. The people say: 'Bam-by old man Gaviller tak' our shirts!
More beautiful t'an any ot'er voman since t'e appearance of man on eart'. But perfectly beautiful? I do not know; I t'ink not yet. Who can tell for v'at ultimate perfection Nature destined t'e human body? But we shall see. T'at perfection you shall reach. In a veek, a mont', t'ree mont's I cannot tell. Ve must vait and experiment and still vait, but success is assured absolute success.
"Come!" she exclaimed. "I don' care what mak' you come, if you come!" She pointed to the longest way round the shore. "This way," she directed. "I want them follow this way so I sail back ot'er side." As they ran around the beach, a faint shout reached them from the water.
"You've got sense," he said. Musq'oosis shrugged philosophically. "I not the same lak ot'er men. I got crooked back, weak legs. I got work sittin' down. So my head is busy." He smoked with a reminiscent look. "When I yo'ng I feel moch bad for cause I got crooked back. But when I old I think there is good in it. A strong man is lak a moose. Wa! So big and swift and 'an'some.
"Say, the sight of you is good for sore eyes!" he cried, leering into her face. "Hanged if you ain't better looking than the sun-rise!" Bela determinedly freed her hand. "Foolish talk!" she said loftily. "Wake the ot'er men and let us eat." "Aw, don't be in such a rush," pleaded Joe. "I want to talk to you. I won't likely get another chance." "What you want say?" she asked.
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