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ELISHyah!" he sings out, rocking of his body in a kind of tune, "reveal yo'se'f, reveal yo'se'f an' he'p me NOW! Lawd Gawd ELISHyah, beckon fo' a CHA'iot, yo' cha'iot of FIAH! Lif' me, lif' me lif' me away f'um hyah in er cha'iot o' FIAH!"
"I know de reason dey so late, Miss Diddie," said Riar, "dey got dat new mule Sam in de lead in one de wagins, and Unker Bill say he know he gwine cut up, f'um de look in he's eyes." "Uncle Bill don't know everything," answered Diddie. "There are six mules in the wagon, and Sam's jest only one of 'em; I reckon he can't cut up much by hisself; five's more'n one, ain't it?"
Den Melissa, she up an' well, suh, I merely wishes to say dat f'um now on, so fur ez I is concerned, natchel history is a utter failure." "Sorry, ma'am," said the Pullman conductor, "but there's not a bit of space left in the chair car, nor the sleeper neither." "I'm sorry too," said the young woman in the tan-colored tailor-mades.
"How silly you do talk, Dumps!" said Diddie; "there ain't any Injuns between here and New Orleans; we've got ter be goin' to California, a far ways f'um here. An' I don't b'lieve there's nothin' in this world named er 'billycrow; it's er tommyhawk you're thinkin' about: an' Injuns don't cut off people's heads; it was Henry the Eighth.
Dat's why I taken my feet in my hand an' come hurryin' back yere f'um dat grocery sto' where I'd done went to git a bottle of lemon extractors. I seen yore sister settin' in dat Mistah B. Weil's candy sto', drinkin' ice-cream sody wid a passel of young folks, an' by dat I realise' I'd done lef' you 'lone in dis house wid a young man dat's a stranger yere, an' so I come right back.
"He was a-stealin' coal f'um the coalkiars," put in one of the posse, "in cohse!" All laughed. "Anyhow, I done seed two o' dem," protested the boy, comically, "wot evah else I done!" Everybody was now hilarious. "Whar's yoah buddy?" I was asked. "Did unt you-all hev no buddy wit' you?"
S'posin', den, dat you wrote to your frien' dat dis yere bar'l would be comin' along to him inside of a week or ten days f'um now wid me in de full charge of it.
You 'cept a word of frien'ship an' warnin' f'um somebody dat's been kicked by more mules 'en whut you ever seen in yore whole life, an' you let dat Frank mule stay right whar he is. You kin have yore choice of de Maud mule or de Maggie mule or Friday or January Thaw; but my edvice to you is, jes' leave dat Frank mule be an' don't pester him none." "How come?" demanded Red Hoss.
Tom Montjoy is de onliest one which kin slip de bit in dat mule's mouf, an' de way he do it is to go into de nex' stall an' keep speakin' soothin' words to him, an' put de bridle on him f'um behinehand of his shoulder lak. But when Tom Montjoy ain't wukkin', de Frank mule he ain't wukkin' neither any.
She sank into a chair, and rocked herself to and fro, gasping to regain her lost breath. "Bless de good God 'Imighty you am' gone out!" she panted. "I run an' I run, an' I come so fas' I got stitches in de side f'um head to heel!" Tom brought her a glass of water, which she drank between gasps. "I nevah run so befo' enduin' my livin' days," she asserted.
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