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At the word “hang” a strange look came into the old man’s eyes, a look as of mortal hatred, but it was gone in a moment, and the drawling answer came, “We-uns knows nuthin’; thar may be strange men hidin’ in the mountin. We-uns don’t know.” “Have you a family?” “A gal.” “Where is she?” “Done gone over the mountin to see the Jimson gals.” “You have no son?”
"Yes, stranger; haulin' late, from Eskaqua a needcessity." "What's yer cargo?" asked Browdie, seeming only ordinarily inquisitive. A sepulchral cadence was in the driver's voice, and the disguised raiders noted that the three other men on the wagon had preserved, throughout, a solemn silence. "What we-uns mus' all be one day, stranger a corpus."
And a Christmas without punch is sinking a hole to bedrock with nary a pay streak. 'Stack up on that fer a high cyard, approved Big Jim Belden, who had come down from his claim on Mazy May to spend Christmas, and who, as everyone knew, had been living the two months past on straight moose meat. 'Hain't fergot the hooch we-uns made on the Tanana, hey yeh? 'Well, I guess yes.
"Waal, how's the prospects fur the 'lection?" she asked. "Fine! Fine!" he answered with gusto. "Folks all be so frien'ly everywhar ter we-uns." He leaned his shoulder suddenly back against the rough rails of the fence. His hat was in his hand. His hair, fine, thin, chestnut-brown, and closely clinging about his narrow head, was thrown back from his forehead.
I says, ''Dosia, ye an' me hev got the rest o' our lives ter do our courtin' in, but this 'lection hev got ter be tended ter now, kase ef Wat ain't 'lected it'll set him back all his life. Some folks 'low ez 't ain't perlite an' respec'ful, nohow, fur pore folks like we-uns ter run fur office, like ez ef we war good ez anybody. An' 'Dosia she jes' hustled me out'n the house. 'G'long! G'long!
"Waal, Birt, we-uns hev been a-waitin' fur ye," said the tanner in a subdued, grave tone that somehow reminded Birt of the bated voices in a house of death. "Set down hyar on the wood-pile, fur Andy an' me hev got a word ter say ter ye." Birt's dilated black eyes turned in dumb appeal from one to the other as he sank down on the wood-pile.
He gave her one kiss, gently disengaged himself from her clinging arms and bolted for the door. "De good Lawd bless young moster an' bring him safe back," cried the tearful blacks, when he appeared at the top of the steps. "Dem babolitionists aint got no call to come down here an' take him away from us. We-uns never done nuffin' to dem." "That's just what I say," answered Rodney.
'Pinnock's Mis'ry' be hyar-abouts somewhar, a plumb quicksand, what a man got into an' floundered an' sank, an' floundered agin, an' whenst they fund him his hair war white an' his mind deranged. Or else we-uns mought run off'n a bluff somewhar, an' git our necks bruk." Now Persimmon Sneed was possessed of a most intrusive curiosity, and he was further endowed with a sturdy courage.
"Ye jes' gin we-uns a sniff an' a sup, an' then ye tuk the kittle that leaks an' shook the rest of the coffee beans from out yer milk-piggin inter it, an' sot out an' marched yer-self through the laurel I wonder nuthin' didn't ketch ye! howsomever naught is never in danger an' went ter that horspital camp o' the rebels on Big Injun Mounting smallpox horspital it is an' gin that precious coffee away to the enemies o' yer kentry."
Ef ennybody tuk arter him he war convenient ter disappear down hyar with we-uns. So he went ter the mill." "An' I wisht I hed put him in the hopper an' ground him up," said the miller, in a blood-curdling tone, but with a look of plaintive anxiety in his eyes. "He hev made a heap o' trouble 'twixt Hil'ry an' me fust an' last. Whar's Hil'ry disappeared to, en-nyways?"
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