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"I'm a Bismarck man," he said to the evangelist. "I've got a store there. My name is John Lounsbury." He held out his hand to Dallas. She advanced again and took it. "Oh, thank you! thank you!" she breathed. "'Bismarck man." It was Lancaster once more. "Wal, w'y the devil don' y' stay thar?" Lounsbury took no notice of him. "I'll be hoofing it," he said to Dallas.
"Well," he said, "I reckon that feller was jest about as stingy as the feller you 've been tellin' about, and mebby stingier, 'cause he 'd take more risks. Anyway, he was as ornery stingy as he could be an' live. If he 'd been any wuss he 'd of died to save grub an' shoe leather. W'y, him and me was out huntin' together oncet, over toward Mono.
The butcher's flare of lights shone with a desolate air on piles of bones and scraps of meat the debris of battle. The greengrocer's was stripped bare to the shelves, as if an army of locusts had marched through with ravenous tooth. "Comin' down the street?" asked Chook, feeling absently in his pockets. "No," said Jonah. "W'y, wot's up now?" inquired Chook in surprise.
Winking into the light, Lancaster followed her pointing, and saw the pole. Up jerked his chin, as if from a blow on the goatee. He stared wildly. His jaw dropped. "W'y, Lawd!" he breathed perplexedly, and his chest heaved beneath the grey flannel of his shirt. Slowly he hobbled forward in his bare feet, using the gun for a prop.
Aunt Dicey looked up in excitement, "W'y, chile, ef dat money was got illegal, I don' want it, but I do know whut I gwine to do, cause I done 'vested it all wid Brothah Buford in his colorednization comp'ny." The court drew its breath. It had been expecting some such dénouement. "And where is the office of this company situated?" "Well, I des can't tell dat," said the old lady.
Hardy admonished the joker lethargically, but with a certain degree of malevolence in his weary tones. "Aw, chack it, Mac!" he drawled. "W'y carn't yer let th' bleedin' bird alone? Yer know 'e don't like that bein' done t'im. Jes' 'awk t'im tellin' yer as much!"
But she's jist huntit wi' the idea that she pat the bairnie doon, and left him, and kens na whaur. Verily, mem, she's are o' the lambs o' the Lord's ain flock!" "That's no the w'y the lambs o' his flock are i' the w'y o' behavin themsels! I fear me, sir, ye're lattin yer heart rin awa wi' yer jeedgment!"
"Peter," said Malcolm, "ye was quite richt to gang, but I'm glaid they didna lat ye." "I wad ha'e been half w'y to Port Gordon or noo," said Peter. "But noo ye'll no gang to Port Gordon," said Malcolm. "Ye'll jist gang to the Salmon for a feow days, till we see hoo things gang." "I'll du onything ye like, Ma'colm," said Peter, and went into the house to fetch his bonnet.
W'y, I've seed it blow that 'ard that it was fit to tear the masts out of us; an' once it throw'd us right over on our beam-ends." "On what ends, boy?" asked Mrs Dotropy, who was beginning to feel interested in the self-sufficient little fisherman. "Our beam-ends, ma'am. The beams as lie across under the deck, so that w'en we gits upon their ends, you know, we're pretty well flat on the water."
W'y, we even hed her educated her mother was a-livin' then and we was well enough fixed to afford the educatin' of her, mother allus contended and we was besides, it was Marthy's notion, too, and you know how women is thataway when they git their head set.
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