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Skipper Simms was dancing about like a madman. His bellowed oaths rolled up the cliffs like thunder. Presently Ward caught a glimpse of the men at the top of the cliff above him. "There they are!" he cried. Skipper Simms looked up. "The swabs!" he shrieked. "A-stealin' of our grub, an' abductin' of that there pore girl. The swabs! Lemme to 'em, I say; jest lemme to 'em."
I seems tuh heah it whispered by every leetle wind thet blows. Wenever I waked up in the night it kim a-stealin' along past the ledge o' rock, an' makin' me shiver, I tell yuh. He was a orful hard-lookin' ole man, mistah." "But perhaps not quite so hard as he seemed, Jim. Was that name Griffin, Jim?" asked Max.
As she did so, a light flashed into her face, and she looked up to find Dominie Graves towering over her, his brows caught together with anger. "So Miss Skinner is the thief who takes our milk! The hymn-singing girl!... Ah, it is you!" Tessibel dropped her eyes, still holding the can of milk. "I air a-stealin' yer milk," she said presently, lifting her gaze. "Air ye goin' to let me have it?"
"'I don't see no difference, says Dan Boggs, 'between this convict a-stealin' of Hamilton's music, than if he goes an' stands up Old Monte an' the stage. "'The same bein' my idee exact, says Texas Thompson. 'Yere's Hamilton caterin' to this camp with a dance-hall. It's a public good thing.
"Wot's England a-comin' to? that's wot I wants to know," he was saying; "wot's England a-comin' to when thievin' robbers can come a-walkin' in on you a-stealin' a pint o' your best ale out o' your very own tankard under your very own nose wot's it a-comin' to?" "Ah!" nodded the others solemnly, "that's it, Joel wot?"
I want to see it. Who did it?" He pushed back the sleeve, and stood analyzing the bruised shoulder and arm. "Who did it?" he persisted, drawing a quick, sharp breath. "Dominie Graves," muttered the girl. "What!" Two deep creases marked the fine brow. "He licked me," reiterated Tess, with an indifferent droop to her lids. "He had a right. I were a-stealin'." "Tessibel! Tessibel! Look at me."
"Who dat?" he demanded severely. "Ain't I done tell you dar ain' no ha'nts 'long dis yer road?" "It's me, Uncle Ish," said the boy. "It's Nick Burr. I heard you singing a long ways off." "Den what you want ter go a-hollerin' en a-stealin' up on er ole nigger fer des' 'bout sundown?" "But, Uncle Ish, I didn't mean to scare you. I jest heard " "Skeer!
Help, help!" cried Oliver, struggling in the man's powerful grasp. "Help!" repeated the man. "Yes, I'll help you, you young rascal! What books are these? You've been a-stealin' 'em, have you? Give 'em here!" With these words the man tore the volumes from his grasp, and struck him on the head.
"He was a-stealin' coal f'um the coalkiars," put in one of the posse, "in cohse!" All laughed. "Anyhow, I done seed two o' dem," protested the boy, comically, "wot evah else I done!" Everybody was now hilarious. "Whar's yoah buddy?" I was asked. "Did unt you-all hev no buddy wit' you?"
It had begun to assume the proportions of a distinct design. He suddenly asked a question of apparent irrelevancy. "This hyar land down the ravine don't b'long ter yer folkses who do it b'long ter?" "Don't b'long ter nobody, ye weasel!" Birt retorted, in rising wrath. "D'ye s'pose I'd be a-stealin' of gold off'n somebody else's land?" Nate's sly, thin face lighted up wonderfully.
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