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"But y' can tell the boy scouts, if y' want t', that I got a cowboy friend named One-Eye, and he lives in a garden that's down in a terrible big cellar, and wears fur all up his pants in front, and a bigger hat'n yours, and spurs. And I got five books Aladdin, and The Mohicans, and Treasure Island, and King Arthur and Crusoe!"
What was there so particularly significant in the sound of these footsteps? They were heavy, regular, and rather slow than hurried. He has now reached the first floor, he still continues to ascend. The sound is becoming plainer and plainer. He pants as though with asthma at each step he takes. He has commenced the third flight. He will soon be on the fourth!
He had an old shabby army hat on, and a ragged blue army overcoat, a buckskin shirt, and a pair of dilapidated greasy buckskin pants that reached only a little below his knees, having shrunk in the wet; he also wore a pair of old army government boots with the soles worn off. That was his make-up. I remember the colonel asking him if he had been very successful in life.
Did he ever speak to or shake hands with you? Yes, when he was a candidate for the Legislature; then he wipes his hand on the seat of his pants." "That's right; I never thought about that; but who'll we run?" "You run." "Oh, I ain't got no education much; I've got to harvest this crop." "Well, we'll find somebody, even if I have to run to beat the damn aristocrat.
But he kept turning his head for a long while to watch the Man With the Red Shirt and the Pipe, and the Round Fat Rosy Woman, and the Thirteen Children, and all the little pairs of pants that seemed to be waving farewell to him. But soon the "Mary Ellen" drifted out of sight. She was a good boat, the "Mary Ellen."
Now listen, Mr. Injun you want to go home? You want to go see your squaw? Well, s'pose I let you loose, what you think you're going to do follow me up and shoot me for Lynch?" "No! No shootum for Lynchie!" denied the Apache vigorously. "Lynchie she say, busca mine! Busca gol' mine, savvy but 'nother man she say, you ketchum plenty money in pants."
I told him if I was going to entertain company, and give a reception, I wanted my pants on, as I was sure no gentleman could give a reception successfully without pants. The doctor seemed sort of glad to see me taking an interest in human affairs again, and so he let me put my pants and jacket on. I got a butcher to shave me, and when ten o clock came I looked quite presentable for a skeleton.
He looked again at the heaps of cast-off clothing on the floor and his gorge rose within him. "I tell you," he cried, before his father could speak, "that I'll never wear another donation party pair of pants. No, nor a shirt-tail shirt, either. I'm through with having the boys make fun of me. I'll earn my own clothes every summer and I'll earn mother's too."
The famous Washington coat and Napoleon pants were only mortal, and, being already of venerable antiquity, became at length too fragmentary even for Micky's not very fastidious taste.
A pair of old pants of the master was highly prized by them. Charles Coates was glad to be free. He had been well taken care of and looked younger than 37 years of age at the close of slavery. He had not been married; had been put upon the block twice to be sold after belonging to Mr. Hall.
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