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Updated: May 3, 2025
At that moment a guard about thirty yards to our left, who evidently supposed that we were Rebels, sang out: "Whar ye gwine to thar boys?" I answered: "Jest a-gwine out here a little ways." Frank whispered me to run, but I said, "No; wait till he halts us, and then run."
A group on the kerbstone broke into song: Now, honey, yo' stay in yo' own back yard, Doan min' what dem white chiles do; What show yo' suppose dey's a-gwine to gib A little black coon like yo'? So stay on this side of the high boahd fence, An', honey, doan cry so hard; Go out an' a-play, jes' as much as yo' please, But stay in yo' own back yard.
"Them air Restercrats kin go wher' they dang please; I'm a-gwine to stay right slambang in the United States." There was a little pause, as if the man on horseback was considering the matter. Then the response came "Here's at you!" "Can't you 'light?" asked Poteet. "Not now," said the other; "I'll git on furder." The man on horseback rode on across the mountain to his home.
Ole Brer Tarrypin, he'd foller atter, en slide down inter de water kersplash! Ole Brer Rabbit, he sot off, he did, en praise um up. "W'iles dey wuz a-gwine on dis a-way, a-havin' der fun, en 'joyin' deyse'f, yer come ole Brer B'ar. He year um laffin' en holl'in', en he hail um. "'Heyo, folks! W'at all dis?
She lifted her eyes, two bright sapphires swimming with the diamond dew of unshed, happy tears. "I'm a-thinkin', Father," she twittered, "that naow me an' yew be a-gwine so fur apart, we be a-gittin' closer tergether in sperit than we 've ever been afore."
And hit's bin march, march, all the time, right away from we'uns's homes. Goramighty only knows whar ole Bragg's a-gwine tuh. Mebbe t' Cuby. We'uns wuz willin' t' fout fur ole Tennessee, but for nary other State. When he started out o' Tennessee we'uns jest concluded t' strike out and leave him. Lordy, Mister, hain't you got something t' eat? We'uns is jest starvin' t' death. 'Deed we'uns is."
"Look here, you had better go to some hospital and ask to be taken in. What are you walking about the street for in that fix? You can scarcely breathe." "I'm a-gwine to walk about until Saturday," answered Stamps, with a grin. "I'm lookin' arter my own claim an' Abner Linthicum. Arter Saturday I'll lie up for a spell." "You'd better do it before Saturday," Tom remarked as he left him.
"Da's more'n I dar tell till I ax his leave, sar. Dey tink some ob de foolish peepil dat he hab sold his-self to de dibil, but I knows better. He's a good man, and you'd hab great fun if you stop wid him. Now, what I's a-gwine to advise you is, come wid me an' see de hermit. If he lets you stop, good.
"Oh, nawthin', nawthin'," hastily replied Samuel, who believed that he hated publicity, as he gave Abe's foot a sly kick. "We was jest a-gwine ter take a leetle scooter sail." He adjusted the skirt of his coat in an effort to hide Abe's carpet-bag, his own canvas satchel, and a huge market-basket of good things which Blossy had cooked for the life-savers. "Seen anythink of that air Eph Seaman?"
"By heaven! it is Lincoln's voice!" "Yer cussed whelp! ye'd see the cap'n hung, would yer? a man that's good vally for the full of a pararer of green-gutted greasers; but I ain't a-gwine to let you look at his hangin'. If yer don't show me which of these hyur pigeon-holes is his'n, an' help me to get him outer it, I'll skin yer like a mink!"
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