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Updated: June 1, 2025
Den he pay me to take a writing to zee camp of zee great man of zee Company, but I not take eet becos I am afraid." "Who was this man?" asked Stane grimly, as the half-breed paused. "I not know; but he is zee ver' same man dat was to haf paid zee price of guns an' blankets for zee girl dat vos in zee cabin." "And who said I was to die?" "Oui! He order dat!
Hamilton read it with a chuckle. "DEAR CAPTAIN HAMILTON, I love you very much. I love you becos you fought in the war. I have your picture. I have put a candle befront of your picture. The candle is burning. I love you very much. Your boy,
Eef you say you not care a dam to go to jail, so you can put him there, too, becos' you have not'ing, an' so dam seeck of everyt'ing, he will t'ink ten t'ousan' dollar same as one cent to Nic Dupont ben sûr!" Lygon nodded his head, still holding his hands to the blaze.
"Why?" inquired Bastin. "Why? Becos the 'urricane is coming, that's all. Coming as though the devil had kicked it out of 'ell." Bastin seemed inclined to remonstrate at this sort of language, but we pushed him down the companion and followed, propelling the spaniel Tommy in front of us.
P'raps you've heared, sir, we don't keep the Cross Keys at Sloppeter now; a uncle o' mine died three 'ear ago, an' left me a leggicy. He was bailiff to Squire Ramble, as hed them there big farms on his hans; an' so we took a little farm o' forty acres or thereabouts, becos Dorkis didn't like the public when she got moithered wi' children.
Becos we feel good, an' we want you to feel good too. We want to share it with you. Oh, dear friend " "That's enough," said the master of the Elizabeth Ann, sharply. "Don't you go 'dear friending' me. Go for'ard! Go for'ard at once!"
Eef you say you not care a dam to go to jail, so you can put him there, too, becos' you have not'ing, an' so dam seeck of everyt'ing, he will t'ink ten t'ousan' dollar same as one cent to Nic Dupont ben sur!" Lygon nodded his head, still holding his hands to the blaze.
"Ay, I mind that well enough," struck in the clerk; "and I mind their being married, becos' we wor ringing of the bells, when old Mason Parmiter run into the church, and says: `Do'ant-'ee, boys do'ant-'ee ring 'em any more. These yere old tower'll never stand it.
"I didn't 'alf 'ave the wind up," he confided me afterwards, "about that there last dinner; becos, you see, a Jerry shell wot burst close chucked a great chunk of mud into one of them cockers. Wot was I to do? Couldn't throw away the grub ... didn't 'ave no more, so I just stirred it all up. Anyhow," reflectively, "it made it thicker, and they sez it was 'tray bun."
"What do you want?" growled the "Bruiser," as he thrust a visage all red and streaky with his work from the galley. "Why the devil don't you wash them saucepans up?" demanded the mate, pointing to a row which stood on the deck. "Do you think we shipped you becos we wanted a broken-nosed, tenth-rate prize-fighter to look at?" "Tenth-rate!" roared the "Bruiser," coming out on to the deck.
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