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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Oh! he beliebed it, an' he says, says he, `I's griebed to hear it, Mis'r Amstrung, an' ob course you cannot 'spect me to gib my consent to my darter marryin' a beggar! O Quash, w'en I hears dat I bu'sted a'most! I do beliebe if I'd bin 'longside o' dat kurnel at dat momint I hab gib him a most horrible smack in de face." "De skownril!" muttered Quashy between his clenched teeth.
After I had read the various pamphlets that Bannerman gave me I was like the old negro who went to sleep with his mouth open. A white man came along and put a spoonful of quinine in his mouth. When the negro woke up the bitter taste worried him. "What does it mean?" he asked. The white man told him it meant that he "had done bu'sted his gall bladder and didn't have long to live."
She started toward the door, but stopped and said, "Gimme de dollah bill!" He gave it to her. She examined it and said, "H'm like enough de bank's bu'sted." She started again, but halted again. "Has you got any whisky?" "Yes, a little." "Fetch it!" He ran to his room overhead and brought down a bottle which was two-thirds full. She tilted it up and took a drink.
To tell you the plain truth, as my affairs are now situated, I'm giving him more than he could take as my son if he were legitimate for as neighbor to neighbor, I'm practically bu'sted. All I'm doing is hanging on for land to rise. Now this isn't much to do, and you won't have to act unless you want to.
"Shet up yo' foolin', 'fo' I knock you side de head, en tell me 'bout de will. Tell me 'tain't bu'sted do, honey, en I'll never forgit you." "Well, 'tain't 'ca'se dey's a new one made, en Marse Tom's all right ag'in. But what is you in sich a sweat 'bout it for, Mammy? 'Tain't none o' your business I don't reckon." "'Tain't none o' my business? Whose business is it den, I'd like to know?
He talked like you do. He called some o' the red devils his friends. He believed in 'em, too. Cornstalk, the Shawnee devil, was his good friend. "Daddy an' mammy 'lowed we could live on Keeney's Knob till all git-out bu'sted up an' never have no trouble with friendly Injuns. That was ten years ago. I was eight years old. Then Cornstalk made his last visit. Daddy had just brought in some deer meat.
He ain't bu'sted yet. `Hasn't he? cried Samson. `Hasn't he gone on eatin' till he bu'sted out larfin? We was real mad at 'im, for a' course that wasn't the kind o' bu'stin we meant; and the end of it was, that we spent the most o' that night disputin' the pint whether Samson had lost or won.
"I'm goin' to town!" Skinny answered shortly. "I'm going up to Eagle Butte and get on a hell of a drunk if I can get hold of any boot-leg whisky Carolyn June and me have bu'sted up on our love-making!" "Going to get drunk, are you?" the Ramblin' Kid queried with a note of scorn in his voice, "an' forget your sorrows?"
He got such a fright that he signalled violently to haul up, an' they did haul 'im up, expectin' to find one of his glasses broke, or his toobes bu'sted. There was nothin' wotsomedever the matter with 'im, but he wouldn't go down again that day. 'Owsever, he got over it, an' after that went down to work at a wreck somewhere in the eastern seas not far from Ceylon, I'm told.
Well, we was diggin' one day, in a place where there was a lot o' red Injins not steam engines, you know, but the sort o' niggers what lives out there. One o' them Injins was named Glutton he was such an awful eater and one o' my mates, whose name was Samson, bet a bag o' goold-dust, that he'd make the glutton eat till he bu'sted. I'm afeard that Samson was groggy at the time.
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