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His thin lips writhed in a mocking smile, as he stood confronting Peleg and Abner, and looking first at one and then at the other: "Ef I don' furgit," he said at length, "that's 'baout the way I talked wen the war wuz a goin on, an if I rekullec, ye, Peleg, an ye, Abner Rathbun and Meshech Little, thar on the floor, tuk arter me with yer guns and dorgs caze ye said I wuz a dum Tory.
I nevah furgit de day dat my ol' Mas' Jack put me on 'June Boy, his black geldin', an' say to me, 'Si, says he, 'if you don' ride de tail offen Cunnel Scott's mare, "No Quit," I's gwine to larrup you twell you cain't set in de saddle no mo'. Hyah, hyah. My ol' Mas' was a mighty han' fu' a joke. I knowed he wan't gwine to do nuffin' to me. "Did I win?
An' I've got an old-fashioned, single-barrel, cap-and-ball pistol that uster belong to a Starbuck." "Yes, and a way back yander it killed a Peters, I've hearn." "Yes, Starbuck, with a three-inch slug. But that's nuther here nur thar, jest now. I'm willin' to furgit the past." Starbuck gave him a knife-thrust glance, and replied: "When a Peters says he is, it's ten to one he ain't."
"Lor', honey, dat 'ud be jes nuts fur 'im; he'd light right out wid it; an' he wouldn't was'e no time, nuther, he'd be so fyeard he'd furgit part'n it." "I don't see none 'bout hyear," said Dumps, looking anxiously up at the trees. "They don't stay 'bout hyear much does they, Uncle Bob?" "I seed one er sittin' on dat sweet-gum dar ez I come up de ditch," said Uncle Bob.
Thet's ther way they air raised; I allow white folks might take a lesson on 'em, in thet; 'n' in heaps uv other things tew. Oh, I'm done talkin' again Injuns, naow, don't yeow furgit it! But I know, fur all thet, 't won't make any difference; 'pears like there cuddn't nobody b'leeve ennythin' 'n this world 'thout seein' 't theirselves.
"I know you would, Sol, but that creepy feelin' 'bout my knees don't weaken the muscles an' j'ints. Runnin' is my strongest p'int." "I know it. I don't furgit the time your runnin' saved us all when the emigrant train wuz surrounded by the tribes." "Down!" suddenly called Henry, and the five dropped almost flat, but without noise, in the bushes.
"Durn my boots ef I didn't furgit the password!" cried Nick Peters with his little falsetto laugh, that seemed keyed for a fleer, although it was most graciously modulated now. "Ye mought hev shot us fur revenuers." "I mought hev shot ye fur wuss," Con Hite growled, rising slowly from his chair, his big dark eyes betokening his displeasure. "I dunno how ye ever kem ter know this place."
Was ye? An' he did n't show up? Say, now, dat's tough an' T'anksgivin', too!" "As if I cared for Thanksgiving!" The words came tense with bitterness. "Aw, come now, furgit it!" There was a look of real concern on the boy's face. "Dat ain't no way ter talk. It's T'anksgivin'!" "Yes, I know for some." The man's lips snapped shut grimly. "Aw, come off! Never mind if yer pal did n't show up.
Thar ain't any path so narrer, but he's a walkin' in it, by my side, all day; 'n' come night, I sleep with him ter one side, 'n' my wife 't other; 'n' I can't stan' it. Them's ther very words I heered him say, 'n' I wuzn't ennythin' but a mite, but I didn't furgit it.
Kettle, having heard that Broussard was leaving, came out of the dining-room, where he had been washing dishes, and wiping his hands on his long checked gingham apron, offered a friendly grasp to Broussard. "I ain' goin' ter let Miss 'Nita furgit you, suh," Kettle whispered, "doan' you be skeered of Mr. Conway he treat Miss 'Nita same like he did when she wear her hair down her back."
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