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Find um, Mass' George," cried the boy, who was in a high state of excitement. "Find what?" I cried. "Oh, yes, Pomp find um; come and see." "Yes, I'll come," I said. "But, I say, Pomp, there are two chickens gone. Do you know anything about them?" "Yes. Such big bird come and take um, Mass' George. Big bird fly ober de tree, whish whoosh! And 'tick um foot into de chickum."
"Spec' hit's time Miss Celia bolt de do', 'long o' de sodgers an' all de gwines-on. Shoo! Hear dat fool chickum crow!" He shook his head, bent rheumatically, and seated himself on the veranda step, full in the moonlight. "All de fightin's an' de gwines-on 'long o' dis here wah!" he soliloquized, joining his shriveled thumbs reflectively. "Whar de use? Spound dat!
The long glasses and bottle capsized, rolled to the floor, and smashed, the crash of glass mingling with her clamour. "What foh?" yelled Feng, in a fury. "Jim Kli, dam chickum spoiley icey dlink. Hiyu no good all same son of a gun! S'pose me catch him, ling him neck!" And he darted after the hen, on vengeance bent. But Casey caught him by the collar. "Never mind, Feng.
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