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But out in the spacious kitchen, hung with pots and pans, where his mistress and Tommy put his pot of breakfast before him and watched while he ate out in the kitchen old Aunt Cindy, the cook, raised her voice in protest. "Ain't dey got no dogs up in New York whar dat man come from?" she demanded. "Why don't he have a dog of his own, den? He rich enough to buy a dozen.

Then she 'lowed again I'd better take the baby that hadn't ketched it yet along with me, and leave it where it was safe. Then she passed out the baby through the door all wrapped up in a blankit like a papoose, and you bet I made tracks with it. I knowed thar wasn't no good going to the mill, so I let out for White's, four miles beyond, whar there was White's old mother.

"Hoss-radish! yah, yah, yah! Why, Massa, whar under the sun does you suppose now I could git hoss-radish, on board ob dis 'Black Hawk? De sea broke into my garden de oder night, and kill ebery created ting in it. Lord a massy, Massa, you know dis is notin' but a fishin'-craft, salt pork and taters one day, and salt beef and taters next day, den twice laid for third day, and den begin agin.

Please whar' is my missy?" replied the little darky eagerly. "Safe in the cabin," nodded the good-natured man. Estralla slipped behind a pile of boxes, and watched for a chance to get on board the vessel without being seen.

They were in an eddy, which was sweeping them close to the rebel bank. "Who air yo' haltin'?" said a second voice. "I see some men in a canoe out thar. I heared their voices fust," said the first voice. "Whar' yo see any men in a canoe?" asked the second incredulously. "Right over thar. You kin see 'em. They're comin' right this-a-way. I'm a gwine t' halt 'em agin an' then shoot."

Devant heard the outer door close; then he sank in his chair and bowed his head upon the two photographs. "Where your mother went before you!" he groaned. "Poor little flotsam and jetsam!" "There goes Janet like a shot from a gun!" "Whar?" Davy and Mark were hauling oil up to the lamp.

He 'uz gwine long de street one day, w'en he heared two gent'emen one of 'em was ole Mars' Tom Sellers an' I fuhgot de yuther but dey 'uz talkin' 'bout dat ole ha'nted house down by de creek, 'bout a mile from hyuh, on de yuther side er town, whar we went fishin' las' week. Does you 'member de place?" "Yes, I remember the house."

The comment that was made by the private soldier was simply two words, and those two words were "O, shucks." The Yankees had gone no one knew whither and our batteries were shelling the woods, feeling for them. "O, shucks." "Hello," says Hood, "Whar in the Dickens and Tom Walker are them Yanks, hey? Feel for them with long-range 'feelers'." A boom, boom. "Can anybody tell me whar them Yanks are?

I'm thinkin' that what we've got to do is to keep on goin' deeper an' deeper into the mountains, an' higher an' higher, too, plum' up among them glaciers, whar the Sioux won't keer to foller. Then, when we winter a while thar we kin turn back toward the plains an' our search." "Looks like good reasoning to me," said Boyd. "As I told the boy here, once, we're richer in time than anything else.

"Whar else would he go?" asked the Falin with a sweep of his arm toward the moonlit wilderness. "Thar ain't but one house that way fer ten miles and nobody lives thar." "How do you know that he's going to any house?" asked Hale impatiently. "He may be getting out of the mountains." "D'you ever know a feller to leave these mountains jus' because he'd killed a man? How'd you foller him at night?