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Updated: May 26, 2025
"My accident, seh. Mr. Leggett, hoccum you got all dat poweh?" "Ah!" said the smiling gallant, "you wants to know the secret o' my poweh, do you? Well, that interjuce the ezacly question I'm jess a-honin' to ass you. You ass me the secret o' my poweh. Don't you know thass the ve'y thing what Delijah ass Saampson?" "Yass, seh. I knows. Dass in de Bible, ain't it?" "It is.
The world's sure bustin' full an' dribblin' over the edges with fools a-honin' to be separated from their dust. An' before we start down the hill I want to announce, if you're still agreeable, that I come in half on this deal." The sled was lightly loaded with a sleeping- and a grub-outfit.
John started again and Leggett resumed. "Whew! I'm that thusty! Ain't you got no sawt o' pain-killeh about yo' clo'es? Aw! Mr. March, mos' sholy you is got some. No gen'leman ain't goin' to be out this time o' night 'ithout some sawt o' corrective Lawd! I wisht you had! Cayn't we stop som'er's an' git some? Lawd! I wisht we could! I'm jest a-honin' faw some sawt o' wetness.
The punchers made a half-circle round Bob. One grinned and made comment. "Here's one looks ripe, fellows. Jes' a-honin' for a ride, looks like." "Betcha he don't last ten jumps," another said. Before Bob could offer any resistance or make any protest he had been jubilantly seized and dumped down on the hide. "Let 'er go," some one shouted. The horse, at the touch of the spur, jumped to a gallop.
And he made her a nice present of pocket-money when she started. The Cameron auto stopped for her at the Red Mill before mid-forenoon, and Ruth bade the miller and Aunt Alvirah and Ben not forgetting Jerry Sheming, her new friend good-bye. "Do do take care o' yourself, my pretty," crooned Aunt Alvirah over her, at the last. "Jest remember we're a-honin' for you here at the ol' mill."
Jes' a-honin' to talk over old times, I'll bet." "I'd as lief forget them days, Jake," Tolliver confessed. "I done turned over another chapter, as you might say. No need rakin' them up, looks like." The big man's grin mocked him. "Tha's up to you, Pete. Me, I aim to be reasonable. I ain't throwin' off on my friends. All I want's to make sure they are my friends.
Across his countenance swept a conflict of emotions. He looked away, as if taking counsel with the hills. "It's what I'm a-honin' fer," he admitted at last. "Hit's what I'd give half my life fer.... I mout sell my land, an' raise the money.... I reckon hit would take passels of money, wouldn't hit?" He paused, and his eyes fell on the rifle leaning against the tree.
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