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"Mais, it was!" "No!" "It was me fault! I swear it was me fault! Mais, here is five hondred dollar'; I wish you shall take it. Here! I don't got no use for money. Oh, my faith! Posson Jone', you must not begin to cry some more." Parson Jones was choked with tears.
"That's what Injun calls his game," said Moise, laughing. "His game what's that?" "Those game she'll been call platter game. All tam in winter Injun will play those game in hees house he'll play it here hondred year, two hondred year, I s'pose maybe." "I know!" broke in Rob, eagerly. "Mackenzie tells about that very thing.
One tousand prawns, all with two hondred men inside him, and the leetle prawns will come to land at your house, Sharley. Bootiful place, quiet sea, no bad rocks. You look out in the morning, and the white coast is made black with them. Now what do you say to that, Cappen Tugwell?"
“Five hondred vild boars,” he was saying, “eight hondred brace of partridges, many bears, and rabbits so moch zat it took five veeks to bury zem. All zese ve did shoot before breakfast, colonel. Aftair breakfast again ve did go out——” But at that moment his attention was sharply arrested by a question of Lady Brierley’s. “Has Dr Escott arrived?” she asked.
"I never see so many people since I lef Quebec," he was saying. "She's jus' lak' beeg city mus' be t'ree, four t'ousan' people. Every day some more dey come, an' all night dey dance an' sing an' drink w'iskee. Ba gosh, dat's fine place!" "Are there lots of white women?" asked the girl. "Yes, two, t'ree hondred. Mos' of dem is work in dance-halls. Dere's one fine gal I see, name' Marie Bourgette.
"Isn't that pretty dangerous work? They say those rapids are awful." "Sure! Everybody scare' to try 'im. W'en I came up dey pay me fifty dollar for tak' one boat t'rough. By gosh! I never mak' so moch money tree hondred dollar a day. I'm reech man now. You lak get reech queeck? I teach you be pilot. Swif' water, beeg noise! Plenty fun in dat!" The Canadian threw back his head and laughed loudly.
Zese citoyens goin' to wickwest Jean Poquelin to give to the Ursuline' two hondred fifty dolla'" "Hé quoi!" cried a listener, "Cinq cent piastres, oui!" "Oui!" said Bienvenu, "and if he wiffuse we make him some lit' musique; ta-ra ta!" He hoisted a merry hand and foot, then frowning, added: "Old Poquelin got no bizniz dhink s'much w'isky."
I can sell dis dress for t'ousan' dollar to-night, or I can trade 'im for gol'-mine on El Dorado Creek to some dose Swede w'at want to catch a gal, but I'm goin' sell 'im to you for t'ree hondred dollar, jus' w'at I pay for 'im. You wait here till I come back."
"Mais, it was!" "No!" "It WAS me fault! I SWEAR it was me fault! Mais, here is five hondred dollar'; I wish you shall take it. Here! I don't got no use for money. Oh, my faith! Posson Jone', you must not begin to cry some more" Parson Jones was choked with tears.
"Wiesacajac, he'll follow the trail to where this fox is lie fast asleep; but all fox he'll sleep with one eye open, so this fox he'll hear Wiesacajac an' see him come, an' he'll get up an' ron. But he'll be so full of goose that inside of hondred yards, maybe feefty yards, Wiesacajac he'll catch up with him an' pick him up by the tail. "'Now I have you, thief! he'll say to the fox.
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