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I promised to write in my own 'and; but time is pressin', as I am goin' to tell you. So you must please put up with Mr. Bossom, and excuse mistakes. I will sign this to let you know there is no fake. We are at Stratford-on-Avon: w'ich for slow goin' must be a record: but all well and 'earty. Mr. M. 'as 'ad luck with 'is actin' 'Ow much?" "Six-seven-nine," answered Sam as he caught up with her.
"Number 1 it is, sir, w'ich is more than I can say of this here slice," said Zook, helping himself to more toast.
Fur de time bein' de work is jes' to form de ladies' auxiliary an' git de main objec's set fo'th." "Lis'en, chile. Me, I don't aim never so long as I lives an' keeps my reason to jine no lodge w'ich don't start out fust thing by fune'lizin' de daid. Ise thinkin' now of de case of dat pore shif'less Sist' Clarabelle Hardin dat used to live out yere on Plunkett's Hill.
"Well, Tom Braddock comes from Baltimore. His father was a hoss trainer and trader there for a good many years afore he died w'ich was about two years ago. I've 'eard it said by them as knows, that he sometimes traded hosses in the dead of night and forgot to leave one in exchange for the one he took away. However that may be, he never got caught at it and so died an honest man.
Yas, I kno' yer brother leastways hev seen him an' heerd heeps about him. Letters uv his name spell Ned Harris, not?" "Yes, sir; but how can you know him? Few do, in Deadwood." "Nevyer mind that, my puss. Ole Walsingham Nix do kno' a few things yet, ef he ar' a hard old nut fer w'ich thar is not cra'kin'." Anita looked at Redburn, doubtfully.
"You take a just view of things, boy," returned Pedro, "but you won't find it difficult to learn. Five minutes looking at what the Indians do will suffice, for they only turn the turtles." "How you mean? Turn 'im upside-down, or outside in w'ich?" "You'd find it hard to do the last, Quashy. No, you've only to turn them over on their backs, and let them lie; that's all."
"'Cause I seed it." "You are quite sure that you saw it?" "In coorse! leastwise, Tim Rokens seed it, and all the men in the boat seed it, and said so to me afterwards w'ich is the same thing, though I can't 'xactly say I seed it myself, 'cause I was looking hard at the men in the enemy's boat, and considerin' which on 'em I should give a dab in the nose to first w'en we come along side of 'em."
"But, Uncle Remus, I ain't bad," said the little boy plaintively. "Who dat chunkin' dem chickens dis mawnin? Who dat knockin' out fokes's eyes wid dat Yallerbammer sling des 'fo' dinner? Who dat sickin' dat pinter puppy atter my pig? Who dat scatterin' my ingun sets? Who dat flingin' rocks on top er my house, w'ich a little mo' en one un em would er drap spang on my head?"
I ain't needin' no ladies' auxiliary to tell me whut my rights is. Neither I ain't needin' to pay out no twenty cents a week to find out neither. W'en it comes to dat, all de ladies' auxiliary w'ich I needs is jes' me, myse'f. I knows good an' well whut my rights is already an' Ise gwine have 'em, too, or somebody'll sho' git busted plum wide open.
"W'en I stay long time in Canada I come back to this country to Minnesota. I go to Duluth, w'ere I hav' ol' frien'. I spen' two days by him an' talk about many t'ings w'ich 'appen to us long ago w'en we hunt together.
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