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"Well, in de second place, birds is creturs dat goes a long ways, but a flea don't." "He don't, don't he? Come, now, what IS a long distance, if you know?" "Why, it's miles, and lots of 'em anybody knows dat." "Can't a man walk miles?" "Yassir, he kin." "As many as a railroad?" "Yassir, if you give him time." "Can't a flea?" "Well I s'pose so ef you gives him heaps of time."
Eugenie, watching at the window across the street, ran to tell her father, who came out on his steps and reviled the van with all the fluency of his French ancestors. Mammy Easter opened the door, and then stood with her arms akimbo, amply filling its place. Her lips protruded, and an expression of defiance hard to describe sat on her honest black face. "Is this Colonel Carvel's house?" "Yassir.
"Cap'n Jarrow, he's gone for'ard," offered Doc, still standing in the frame of the door, barely perceptible. "Forward!" whispered Trask, surprised. This news meant one of two explanations for what he had seen the business was legitimate, and under the direction of Jarrow, or Jarrow was involved with the crew in whatever treachery was afoot. "Yassir," continued Doc.
One of these was, "Ain't nigger enough in him to show in his fingernails, en dat takes mighty little yit dey's enough to pain his soul." Presently she muttered. "Yassir, enough to paint a whole thimbleful of 'em." At last her ramblings ceased altogether, and her countenance began to clear a welcome sight to Tom, who had learned her moods, and knew she was on the threshold of good humor now.
"Mighty hard to open," said Doc, down on his knees, struggling with the straps. It was hot in the room, and rather dark, as the deadlight to the poop-deck was fogged by sea water. "You're new to the schooner, aren't you?" asked Trask. "Yassir. I jus' shipped fo' the roun' trip." "How long have you known Mr. Peth?" Trask kept his voice low, and bent down to Doc. "Yassir. I know Mr. Peth.
We had not gone very far along when the pain in my side became poignant and I called out of the window to Sambo: "Sammy, is there a doctor anywhere on the way out to the Zoo?" I asked. "Yassir," he replied, slowing down a trifle. "We gotter go right by de doh ob Dr. Skilapius." "Doctor who?" I asked the name was new to me.
"Yes, yes, Aunt Em'ly, we have had dinner, but we should like to " "Yassir! I'll git the ice cracked in no time an' sen' Kizzie fer some mint." "Not yet, Aunt Em'ly," faltered her master miserably. "A little later, perhaps, but now " "I know! You done had a po' dinner an' come home fer some 'spectable victuals. It ain't gonter take me long."
"'Tain't Skill-apius," growled the boy behind, who seemed rather jealous that I had taken no notice of him. "It's Eee-skill-apius." "Oh," said I, beginning to catch their drift. "Dr. Æsculapius. Is that what you are trying to say?" "Yassir," said both boys. "Dass de man." "Well, stop at his office a moment," said I. "I'm feeling a trifle ill."
De war had done lef' old mars' po' hisself. Old mars' bein' 'long ago dead, de debt descends to Mars' Pendleton. Three hundred dollars. Uncle Mose is plenty able to pay now. When dat railroad buy my lan' I laid off to pay fur dem mules. Count de money, Mars' Pendleton. Dat's what I sold dem mules fur. Yassir." Tears were in Major Talbot's eyes.
When I first got to Newbraska, dey folks come all roun' me to see dem mule colts. Dey ain't see no mules like dem in Newbraska. I sold dem mules for three hundred dollars. Yassir three hundred. "Den I open a blacksmith shop, suh, and made some money and bought some lan'. Me and my old 'oman done raised up seb'm chillun, and all doin' well 'cept two of 'em what died.
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