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Updated: June 9, 2025
The word seemed to wring an agonized cry from the miserable man. "Bitten! No; but don't you hear 'em coming, sah! God Almighty! don't you hear dat?" "What?" "De dogs! de houns! DE BLOODHOUNS! Dey've set 'em loose on me!" It was true! A faint baying in the distance was now distinctly audible to Courtland.
No, not fer a considerbul spell lessen we has one grand, hifalutin' tornader. Yo' hyar me!" "I sho' does hyar yo' Mis' Lucy, an' I sho' 'grees wid yo' ter de very top notch. Dere's gwine ter be de very dibble 'scuse me please, ma'am, 'scuse me, but ma feelin's done got de better of ma breedin' ter pay ef things go on as dey've begun since de Madam an' dat dawg invest deyselves 'pon Severndale.
Dat bunch on dat side has growed over and met dat bunch on de oder side, and den dey've growed togedder in one big knot, and den I catches mine foot under and tumbles down. Dat ish funny for te grass to grow dat way."
As I drove into the yard, a bare-headed old nigger with a game leg throwed down an armful of wood he was gathering and went limping up to the veranda as fast as he could. He opened the door and bawled out, pointing to us, before he had it fairly open: "O Marse WILLyum! O Miss LUCY! Dey've brung him home! DAR he!"
Dar's no groun' ploughed yit for wheat, an' dem two han's been 'gaged to come do it, an' dey put it off, an' put it off till ole miss got as mad as hot coals, an' now at las' dey've come, an' she's not h'yar, an' nuffin' can be done. De wheat'll be free inches high on ebery oder farm 'fore ole miss git dem plough han's agin." "That is too bad, Uncle Isham," said Mrs Null.
"Late, ain't they?" "Sure. Mr. Windsor generally blows in before I do." "Wonder what's keepin' them." "P'raps, dey've bin put out of business," suggested Pugsy nonchalantly. "How's that?" Pugsy related the events of the previous day, relaxing something of his austere calm as he did so.
"Dey've missed me dis time, shuah! Wonder whether dey'll outlive dar disapp'intment, when dey finds out dat when dey finds me, dey hain't found me! Ki! yi!" He maintained his motionless position for several moments longer, all the while listening for his enemies.
Can't keep de cats off of eatin' dem, I can't. First t'ing you know dey've swallowed dem, and den dey gits thin and ties theirselves into knots." "You should put them into strait-waistcoats," said Psmith. "Passing, however, lightly " "Say, ever have a cross-eyed cat?" "Comrade Jackson's cats," said Psmith, "have happily been almost free from strabismus." "Dey's lucky, cross-eyed cats is.
"A versatile animal," agreed Smith. "Say," Mr. Jarvis went on, now plainly on a subject near to his heart, "dem beetles is fierce. Sure! Can't keep de cats off of eatin' dem, I can't. First t'ing you know dey've swallowed dem, and den dey gits thin and ties theirselves into knots." "You should put them into strait-waistcoats," said Smith. "Passing, however, lightly "
"Why, what's the matter?" he asked, looking up in the terror-stricken countenance of the negro. "Hebens, golly! dey've come!" "Who has come? what are you talking about?" "De Injines. Dar's forty fousand of 'em out dar in de clearing!"
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