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"Twouldn't never do, neither, fur you to slip off an' mebbe git yo'se'f crippled up. Whar would this yere pertracted meetin' be then? Lemme think. Ah, hah! I got it the notion jes' come to me. Purfessor, listen yere." He placed his lips close to the other's ear and spoke perhaps fifty words in a confidential whisper.
"Humph! So did Judas," muttered Dyke, shrewdly. "Well, I a'n't a purfessor myself. Boys, come along! Drum-call time. You're in luck. We'll have work afore mornin', an' darned ef you sha'n't be in it, in spite of rules!" When the recruits went out, the meeting broke up.
"W'y don't you say what you mean, then, Willum, instead o' pitchin' into a poor chap as makes no pretence to be a purfessor? Heave ahead!"
See that mare goin' pas' you w'en she's in a hurry an' you say to yo'se'f, you say, 'Yere you is, bound fur de buryin'-groun', but how come you got separated frum the hearse? Purfessor, that mare's entitled Christian name is Mittie May. Did you ever hear of ary thing on fo' laigs, ur two, w'ich answered to the name of Mittie May that wuz tricky?"
"An' I has observed him present yere the last two-three nights. But I ain't aimin' to ax no favors frum him." "You ain't needin' to," said Cump. "I'll 'tend to that myse'f. Besides, Purfessor, you is sizin' up Jeffy Poindexter wrong. He's went an' 'sperienced a change of heart in his feelin's tow'ds whut's goin' on yere.
'Twon't never do in this world fur the gran' marshal to be stuck up 'pon the top side of a skittish, skeery liver'-stable hoss that'll mebbe start cuttin' up right in the smack middle of things and distrac' the gran' marshal's mind frum his business. I seen that happen mo' times 'en onct, wid painful results. I s'pose, tho, you kin ride mighty nigh ary hoss they is, can't you, Purfessor?"
"Jim," he said, "I've told you often that Paul an' me hez the instincts uv the eddicated. Learnin' always takes a mighty strong hold on me. Ef I'd had the chance, I might be a purfessor, or mebbe I'd be writin' poetry. I ain't told you about it, but when I wuz a young boy, afore I moved with the settlers, I wuz up in these parts an' I learned to talk Iroquois a heap.
"The w'ite man he wuks fur is got one an' Jeffy gits the borrowin' use of her it's a mare w'enever he want to, ez I knows frum whut he tells me an' frum whut I seen. Purfessor, that mare is jes' natchelly ordained an' cut out fur peradin' broad ez a feather-tick, gentle ez the onborn lamb, an' mouty nigh pyure white perzactly the right color fur a gran' marshal's hoss.
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