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I think that tears came into all our eyes at once, and the little Ethiops fairly bellowed. "My friends," I said, falteringly, "I see how you have suffered, and sympathize with you, from my heart." "Our beautiful property is ruined," said Mrs. Michie, welling up. "Yer's five years of labor, my children's heritage, the home of our old age, look at it!"
"But thar' ain't no use hankerin' arter them yer's lef 'hin' yer: reckon yer won't never see um no mo'. Heap better git sati'fied yere. It's a long way back thar', ain't it?" "A mighty long way," said Alston; and then he was silent, his thoughts going back and back over the long way. Lizay recalled him: "Was yer sorry yer had ter whip me?"
"Ob co'se," said Nimbus, as he broke a sucker into short pieces between his thumb and finger, "yer's got ter hab de sile; but ther's a heap mo' jes ez good terbacker lan' ez dis, ef people only hed the patience ter wuk it ez I do mine." "Wal, now, there's not so much like this," said the sheriff, sharply, "and you don't think so, neither.
He sez yer's strong ez a hoss." "Bradley," said Sharpe, laying aside his sledge with an aggrieved manner which was, however, as complacent as his fatigue and discontent, "ez one of them nat'ral born finikin skunks ez I despise. I reckon he began to give p'ints to his parents when he was about knee-high to Richelieu there.
"This way, Uncle, here's your man." The old negro slowly approached them to be instantly surrounded by the thirsty regiment. "Howdy, Marsters? howdy?" he began, pulling his grizzled hair. "Dese yer's right nice pies, dat dey is, suh." "Look here, Uncle, weren't they made in the ark, now?" inquired Bland jestingly, as he bit into a greasy crust.
Den dey hear de little bird singin', en dish yer's de song w'at he sing: "'Spit in yo' han's en tug it en toll it, En git behime it, en push it, en pole it; Spit in yo' han's en r'ar back en roll it. "En des 'bout de time dey got de wood on de fier, der daddy, he come skippin' in, en de little bird, he flew'd away.
"Do I understand as everybody thinks hangin' too severe?" inquired Rogers, glancing slowly round the table. "I do," as no hands were shown. "Well then, let's try something else. Perhaps, shipmates, some of yer's got a hidee as you'd like to put afore the court? If so, let's hear what it is."
They were halted by some clumps of sickly willows, and Yellow Pine said, mournfully, "Yer's where the redskins made their next camp. They and their critters trod the pool down to nothin' and let the sun in onto it, and it's as dry as a bone. We're in for a hard time and no mistake."
"Yer's yer hat," pulling an old straw article, over-worn, from Dennis's head. "No wind's a blowin' to blow hats into graveyards. Or did you set yer hat under a hen in yere, by a stiffy?" Dennis looked up, laughing, though not all at ease, but his amiable want of either intelligence or fear, which belong near together, made his most natural reply to the pertinacious intruder a disarming grin.
"She's cold and 'ungry, and she has money to pay," he said. "Come in, then, Missy, come in; yer's a good fire, and a hunk of cheese, and some brown bread, and there'll be soup by-and-by. Yes," winking at her son, "there'll be good strong soup by-and-by." Flower, who had come up close to the threshold of the hut, now drew back a step or two.
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