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"'No, he says, 'rattlesnakes is all right good, sociable, moral snakes enough; but in a sperit of humor they may bite you or some play like that, an' thar you'd be. No; bull-snakes is as 'fectionate as rattles, an' don't run to p'ison. You don't have no inadvertencies with 'em. "'Can't you bust the fangs outen rattlesnakes? I asks.
"O Miss Pray, there was a dead pig washed ashore to-day, right down on your clam-bottoms such a beautiful one! jest as fat! and me and Wesley brought it up and roasted it, and we've been expectin' you, an' expectin' you, an' tryin' to keep it hot " "A dead pig!" hissed Miss Pray. "Do you want to murder us? Do you want to drown me in the morning and p'ison me at night, Belle O'Neill?
His cane went up and he went down. His high hat took a swim in a bucket of soapy water that the parson had been using to swab decks with." "Father is so very dignified! It must have been quite funny," she commented, between paroxysms of laughter. "I wish I could have seen him!" "'Twas a mite funny. I fished his beaver out the pail, and he made off holding it away from him like it was p'ison."
"I don't mean anything to give him pain," said the other, waving his hand; "you ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you, Jem?" "Do you mean to say," shouted Mr. Lister. "I don't mean to say anything," said the cook. "Answer my question. You ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you?" "Have you been putting p'ison in my wittles?" demanded Mr. Lister, in trembling accents.
"Prut-tush-tish!" said his companion, with a whistle in his teeth that ended with a "damnation!" "It'll only knock him over for the race; he'll be right as a trivet after it. What's your little game; coming it soft like that, all of a sudden? You hate that ere young swell like p'ison." "Aye," assented the head groom with a tigerish energy, viciously consuming his bit of straw.
"'Specially one of them soaking days when we were marching through the mud to Wildcat." "O, those were just thrown in to make us appreciate good weather when we have it. Otherwise we wouldn't. You know what the song says: 'For Spring would be but gloomy weather, If we had nothing else but Spring." "Well, for my part, one o' them days was enough to p'ison six months o' sunshine.
An' as for Passon, she don't come nigh 'im no more, an' he don't go nigh 'er. Seems to me 'tis all a muddle an' a racket since the motor-cars went bouncin' about an' smellin' like p'ison 'tain't wot it used to be. Howsomever, let's 'ope to the Lord it'll soon be over.
Now mine can't abide the sight nor smell of it. What 'bout Paris green?" "They thrive on it; it's as good as an appetizer." "Well," said Jabe Slocum, revolving the quid of tobacco in his mouth reflectively, "the bug that ain't got no objection to p'ison is a bug that's got ways o' thinkin' an' feelin' an' reasonin' that I ain't able to cope with! P'r'aps it's all a leadin' o' Providence.
"We'll hunt for them, sir." "See that you do. Sometimes you may have to go up a couple of miles, and it'll be p'ison cold, but most of the time you'll find your storm a good deal lower. If you can only strike a cyclone that's the ticket for you! You'll see by the professor's books that they travel west in these latitudes; and they travel low, too." Then he ciphered on the time, and says
He has got hundreds of dollars from the families of the trappers who come down the river in the spring, and for years he has gathered in about every cent I could rake together. "Wal, after I had been home about a week I strolled down to his place one moonlight night. I told mother not to worry about me, for I would blow my own head off before I'd ever swaller another drop of red p'ison.