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That gal," Davy pointed a trembling finger dune-ward, where the Comrade was bobbing over the roughening water, "that gal ain't goin' t' be soiled by any slime if I know it. She b'longs t' Billy an' me, an' by thunder! we can sail her bark fur her when her little hand grows tired on the tiller!" Mark was wiping his eyes.
Whose horse is that out 'n the corral?" The girl looked at him witheringly. "I don't know as it's any of your pertic'lar business, but I don't mind tellin' you that horse b'longs to a gentleman!" "A gentleman," sneered Parker. "Yes, a gentleman; if you don't know what that is you'd better look in the dictionary. You won't find out by lookin' in the lookin'-glass, I can tell you that."
It's a peculiar business a business that sort o' b'longs to me, though I ain't got no patent from Washington for it. It's MY OWN business." He paused, rose, and saying, "Let's meander over and take a look at that empty cabin, and ef she suits me, why, I'll plank down a slug for her on the spot, and move in tomorrow," walked towards the door.
"De nigger dat ain't hope up 'longer high feedin' ain't got no grip. But up yer whar fokes is gotter scramble 'roun' an' make der own livin', de vittles w'at's kumerlated widout enny sweatin' mos' allers gener'ly b'longs ter some yuther man by rights. One hoe- cake an' a rasher er middlin' meat las's me fum Sunday ter Sunday, an' I'm in a mighty big streak er luck w'en I gits dat."
They had passed no other place that showed such signs of thrift and prosperity. "Oh, what a lovely place!" exclaimed Rena. "That is yours, isn't it?" "No; we ain't got to my house yet," he answered. "Dat house b'longs ter de riches' people roun' here. Dat house is over in de nex' county. We're right close to de line now."
He had a shotgun in his hands. "It's my brother Voltaire," shouted Marengo, pulling up, though Cap'n Sproul swore tempestuously. "You've got to take him on. He b'longs to your fire comp'ny." "I was out huntin' when I heard the bell," bellowed the new passenger, when he had scrambled to a place behind the wagon-seat, his back toward them and his legs hanging down.
"No fear about that, sir," answered Brown, who pulled the bow oar; "we ain't such fools as to make the voyage in a cockle-shell like this! The boat b'longs to a privateer as is owned by a friend o' mine, an' the wessel's lyin' off an' on waitin' for us." "There she goes!" said one of the sailors. "Look out!" As he spoke a large schooner loomed up against the dark sky, and was hailed.
As he made off hastily in the direction of his house, for this conversation had taken place at the blacksmith's shop at the cross-roads, the surveyor gazed after him much mystified. "What is that old fox slyin' round after? He ain't studyin' 'bout no saw-mill, inquirin' round about all the out-o'-the-way water-power in the ken-try fifty mile from where he b'longs.
Let's sen' to Scooba an' git Charlie Rosenbaum an' John Gilmore to come help dey frien's. Dey b'longs to dat Chisolm crowd an' we want dem, too." "'So dey come. Somebody say, "Let's commence right here." I never seen a battle b'fore, but I sho' seen one den. It were lak dis: Mr. Cal Hull was de only democratic white frien' Mr. Rosenbaum had. He stood' twixt his white democratic frien's an' Mr.
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