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"What, by the holy hokey, and a'n't you?" cried the stranger, his rage giving way to the most lively transports; "Christian men!" he exclaimed in admiration, "and one of 'em a niggur, and two of em wimming! oh hokey! You're Capting Forrester, and I've heerd on you!
"Fine wimming," remarked Sott, sagely, "is like pizen vine, pooty and clingin, but pesky dangerous; I hadn't better teched Pluggie. A woming of your own is worse yet. She spiles on you, and you can't sell her as you do a hoss or a nigger." Pierce looked at the darky, who grinned self-consciously. "How many times over has Abe sold you since you ran away from the island?"
Now, Cunnel, I can kill your tarnal man fellers, for they've riz my ebenezer, and I've kinder got my hand in; but, I rather calkilate, I han't no disposition to kill wimming!"
"Eudory, in pickin’ out one of them men," she jerked her thumb towards the opposite side of the house, "git one tha’s clar o’ the trick o’ stampedin’ round other wimming. It’s bound to kem back to ye, same as counterfeit money." Eudora giggled. She was of an age when the fascinations of curiosity as to the unknown male animal prompt lavish conjecture. "I ’lowed they all stampeded."
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