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Updated: June 26, 2025
I love de birds and hanimals, an' dey're frien's wit' me also. 'Bout spring-tam, w'en de grub she's short, de Canada jays dey come to visit me, an' I feed dem; sometam' I fin' dere's groun-squirrel's nest onder my tent, an' mebbe mister squirrel creep out of his hole, t'inkin' summer is come. Dat feller he's hongry; he steal my food an' he set 'longside my stove for eat him.
De pizen vine hit don't b'ar peaches, an' nightshade berries dey ain't hulsome, eben ef dey're pooty." "Neb, stop that!" Layson commanded sharply. The old negro half slipped from the chair in which he had been sitting wearily. Once he had started on the speech which he had made his mind up, months ago, that, some day, he would screw his courage up to, he would not be stopped.
"I t'ink," Bennietod gave out, "dat dey're lost Eyetalian organ-grinder monkeys, wid huming intelligence, like Bertran's Bimi." "What a suspicious child it is," yawned Little Cawthorne, and went to sleep again.
He stood o-mouthed and absentminded, and only once shot a blue glance at his uncle to say: "But if dey're so baddy ... den why did God MAKE lies an' de debble?" which intelligent query hit the nail of one of Mahony's own misgivings on the head. No real depravity, was his verdict. Still, too much of a handful, it was plain, for Polly's inexperience. "A problem for John himself to tackle, my dear.
"I want some chicken, auntie." "There is no chicken, dear," said the prim one. "You must be a patient little man." "I won't. I'm hungry. Mens aren't patient when dey're hungry." A small, red face rose, like a tiny harvest moon, between the broad, masculine backs on the front seat. "Dorman, sit down! Redmond!"
"Why can't youse answer when yer called? Wot you tryin' ter do light a bonfire ter save yer voice? Say, youse wanter get a wiggle on beat it quick! Dey're after you." "What?" cried Helena sharply, jumping to her feet. "After me? Who? What do you mean?" "I dunno," said the Flopper with sudden imperturbability and evidently quite pleased with the agitation he had caused.
The eyes of the soldier and Miss Prescott asked the same question, and the Huron replied: "Ain't Injins walk too heavy white men." "They must be friends then," exclaimed the girl, springing up and clapping her hands. "Dey're comin' hear 'em."
Dere's one thing sho', dey're gwine ter git after de niggers some way er 'nuther, an' w'en dey does, whar is Jerry gwine ter be? Dat's de mos' impo'tantes' question.
"What need to ax that, you stoopid nigger?" said Hockins; "don't you know he's a Christian?" "Das true, 'Ockins. I hoed an' forgot." "But tell me, Ravonino, are de crokindiles awrful rampageous when dey're roused?" "Yes, they are pretty bad," said the guide, clearing his throat, for he was fond of expatiating on the wonders and beauties of his native land!
"Well, I nevuh!" she ejaculated, as soon as she could get her breath, "ef dat ain' de beatinis' pe'fo'mance I ever seed er heared of! Dese yer young niggers ain' got de manners dey wuz bawned wid! I don' know w'at dey're comin' to, w'en dey ain' got no mo' rispec' fer ole age I don' know I don' know!"
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