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But I think it's all newspaper lies about these here big fortunes and about all the leading men in politics being corrupt. I know it ain't so about the leading men in my party, and I reckon there ain't no more truth in it about the leading men of your'n. I was saying to my wife last night, 'It's all newspaper lies, says I, 'just like the story they printed about Mrs.
Thirty steps from the place she knowed about, behind the two big chestnut-trees, goin' towards the first cedar, and a forked sassyfrack growin' right over it. What she finds, is your'n." "Sandy!" Gilbert exclaimed, starting from his listening posture. "Hush, I say! You know what I mean her to do, give you your money back. I took a curse with it, as you said. Maybe that's off o' me, now!"
"Did you sleep in this straw-stack last night?" he ejaculated, after carefully taking the ragged fellow's measure with a practiced eye. "Sure; this here's the hotel whar I put up slept in the room jes' acrost the hall from your'n. Whar ye goin' ter eat?" with a hungry look. "Don't know. Did you have any supper last night?" "Nope, supper was done et when I got in." "Same here."
Deerslayer met his offered friendship in a proper spirit, and they shook hands cordially, each endeavoring to assure the other of his sincerity and desire to be at peace. "All have his own," said the Indian; "my canoe, mine; your canoe, your'n. Go look; if your'n, you keep; if mine, I keep." "That's just, red-skin; thought you must be wrong in thinking the canoe your property.
Somebody suggested shooting the gun across a pond of water, and getting the money that way, but it was decided that the force of the Springfield seemed too great for any body of water in the neighborhood. Then Jabe Clemmons, the "speculative" genius of the neighborhood, spoke up: "Gentlemen, I've an idee. Deacon, how much is in that small haystack of your'n?" "'Bout 10 tons," answered the Deacon.
"Its no use delayin'," thought Moses, "I'll make a bold dash," and jumping up from his seat, exclaimed, "You're Mister Verne that lives in the big house on that high bank up there by the square?" "Yes, sir," said the latter, respectfully. "Well, sir, did you ever see this 'ere piece of writin' afore, I picked it up near your house, and supposin' it were your'n I brought it here." Mr.
"Close up there in front!" commanded Shorty. "Keep marchin' distance 19 inches from back to breast. Come on, Pete. Gi' me your hand; I'll help you along." "I ain't no kid, to be led along by the hand," answered Pete sturdily, refusing the offer. "I'll keep up somehow. But you can't expect my short legs to cover as much ground as them telegraph poles o' your'n."
Crymble promptly dropped the three sticks of wood that he was carrying. "But I don't want you to get too far off till I think this thing over a little," resumed the Cap'n. "There ain't no time now. You ought to know this old farm of your'n pretty well. You just go find a hole and crawl into it for a while." "I'll do it," declared Mr. Crymble, with alacrity. "I knew you'd find her out.
"Padre! who'd believe a Mexican priest? Mr. Jones, that tame beaver of your'n must have been born in the States, where he hadn't trees and mud to build dams with, and had to resort to furnitur." "That beaver," responded Jones, "was as near like a human bein' as any man present." "How do you make that out, Mr. Jones?" "Why, one day his master died.
"Say, you're pretty in them new clothes of your'n. I'd never 'a' known you." "I wish you hadn't, then," said Bessie, with spirit. "I'm through with you, Jake Hoover! You won't have me around home any more, to take the blame for all your wickedness.
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