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"Nickie, fer th' love iv 'Eaven let er man sleep," pleaded the Living Skeleton pitifully. "I was just a-dreamin' iv pickled pigs' feet an' fried taters crisp, brown, fried taters. Oh, Lord!" "Be quiet!" snarled the Missing Link, "and do a perish here from thirst while that cow of a man swills his fill and makes a fortune out of my mortal agony? No, hanged if I do."
Gae to sleep, lad, gae to sleep." "I thought they was goin' to throw me down the shaft. I must 'a' been a-dreamin'." "Yes, ye waur dreamin'. Gae to sleep." But Ralph did not go to sleep again that night, and when the first gray light of the dawning day came in at the cottage window he arose.
I guess they wuz all a-dreamin' about the song of birds a-comin' back from the south land, and silky, pale green willers a-bendin' low over gurglin' brooks, and pink and white may-flowers a-hidin' under the leafy hollows of Northern hills, and the golden glow of cowslips down in the dusky brown shallows in green swamps, and white clouds a-sailin' over blue skies, and soft winds a-blowin' up from the South.
I am a-walkin' in my sleep, I guess. I was a-dreamin' of money that I was to find and give to you, and I suppose that's why I've come to your room. You lay still, Belinda, and don't tell nobody. I am a-goin' right away." Before she could answer in a way that seemed suitable, he was gone, and the next day he renewed his explanations. "I dunno, Belinda, how I ever come to be a-walkin' in my sleep.
I hed been a-dreamin', an' thort it wur rainin', an' then agin I thort that I wur bein' drownded in the Massissippi; but I wan't many seconds awake, till I guessed what it wur in raality; so I jumped to my feet like a started buck, an' groped my way to the door. "A sight that wur when I got thur.
I wur awoke; an' when I did awoke, I still thort I wur a-dreamin'. It would a been a rough dream; but unfort'nately for me, it wan't a dream, but a jenwine reality. "At fust, I cudn't make out what wur the matter wi' me, no how; an' then I thort I wur in the hands o' the Injuns, who were draggin' me over the parairy; an' sure enough I wur a draggin' that a way, though not by Injuns.
So's I can truly say, the Meetin' House wuz on me day and night. For workin' on it es I did, all day long, and Josiah a-talkin' abut it till bed time, and I a-dreamin' abut it a sight, that, and the Conference. Truly, if I couldn't set on the Conference, the Conference sot on me, from mornin' till night, and from night till mornin'.
"No, I wasn't a-dreamin' an' ye know I wasn't." "Well, suppose you did meet me, what of it?" "I'll tell ye what I want," and Pete moved nearer. "I want to know what's become of that fine young chap what was out with ye, the lad what had the fiddle?" "How do I know? I can't keep track of every idiot who happens to meet me on the trail and travels along with me for a time."
"'Wot! cries Hardenberg, sort of mystified, 'Oh, I'm sure a-dreamin'! he says, just that silly-like. "'An' the mugs we've got! says Strokher. "An' they both sets to swearin' and cussin' to beat all I ever heard. "'I can't let her see me so bunged up, says Hardenberg, doleful-like, 'Oh, whatever is to be done? "'An' I look like a real genuine blown-in-the-bottle pug, whimpers Strokher.
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