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Updated: May 31, 2025
I nevah heard o' nobody dyin' f'm gittin' a beatin'. Some couldn't wuk fer a day or so. Sometimes de whippin' boss th'ow salt brine on dey backs, or smear on turpentine, to mek it well quicker. I don't know, 'zackly, how old I is. Mebbe wait a minute, I didn't show you my pitcher what was in de paper. I cain't read, but somebody say dey put down how old I is undah mah pitcher.
Phil instantly recalled Uncle Peter's story of the black cat. Perhaps this was the same one! Phil had often been warned about the railroad. "Keep 'way f'm dat railroad track, honey," the old man had repeated more than once.
But it warn't no use, you know, it warn't no use. An' that was the last we see of him for about two minutes 'n' a half, an' then all of a sudden it begin to rain rocks and rubbage, an' directly he come down ker-whop about ten foot off f'm where we stood Well, I reckon he was p'raps the orneriest lookin' beast you ever see.
"Dey's de queeres' lot o' tramps Ah eveh did see, an' Ah wouldn' trust 'em 's fer as Ah could heave a brick house." "But the leader is such a very courteous gentleman," remonstrated Beverly. "Yas, ma'am; he mussa came f'm Gawgia or Kaintuck," was Aunt Fanny's sincere compliment. The pseudo-princess dined with the vagabonds that night.
Quin Beasley, that conclusive reasoner, who said, "Simlike ef you talk to Crit fer abaout th'ee bats of your eye he cand show you that ef innybody, don't keer who, would putt, wall say, wall, don't keer haow much you say, as much as tin thousand, in the Comp'ny an' leave it slumber fer say wall, don't keer haow long you say, as much as fo', five months, it 'ud be wuth, be wuth, wall, I don't keer to over-fetch, but I reckin f'm whut Crit says, th'aint no tellin' whut it would be wuth."
I run across him in the woods about an hour or two ago, and he said if I hollered he'd cut my livers out and told me to lay down and stay where I was; and I done it. Been there ever since; afeard to come out." "Well," he says, "you needn't be afeard no more, becuz they've got him. He run off f'm down South, som'ers." "It's a good job they got him."
"W'en dinner-time come, en Hannibal wuz help'n de cook kyar de dinner f'm de kitchen inter de big house, en wuz gittin' close ter de do' what he had ter go in, his feet sta'ted ter bu'n en his head begun ter swim, en he let de big dish er chicken en dumplin's fall right down in de dirt, in de middle er de ya'd, en de w'ite folks had ter make dey dinner dat day off'n col' ham en sweet pertaters.
Robinson instantly arrived at the determination that the stranger was "stuck up," but was in no degree cast down thereby. "I heard Chet Timson tellin' that the' was a feller comin' f'm N'York to work in Dave Harum's bank. Guess you're him, ain't ye?" No answer this time: theory confirmed. "My name's Robinson," imparted that individual. "I run the prince'ple liv'ry to Homeville."
There you be," he continued, "stuck up four five feet up in the air like a clo'espin, havin' your backbone chucked up into your skull, an' takin' the skin off in spots an' places, expectin' ev'ry next minute the critter'll git out f'm under ye no, sir," he protested, "if it come to be that it was either to ride a hossback fer the fun o' the thing or have somebody kick me, an' kick me hard, I'd say, 'Kick away. It comes to the same thing fur 's enjoyment goes, and it's a dum sight safer."
"You bet dar is," said he, "a knot-hole not fur f'm de gran'-stan', an' a tree what you could climb, right handy." Miss Alathea was not favorable to the thought of climbing trees, and said so. "No, no; the knot-hole will be far better for me." "But, Miss 'Lethe, why, de Cunnel " She did not let him make his explanation. "Sh! Sh!" she hissed. "Not a word of this to him, or anyone!
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