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Updated: May 7, 2025
"'Not much, says Jone, givin' a pull which brought me right up to the top o' the wall an' almost clean down the other side, with one jerk. 'I never knowed no officers that would do that. But, says he, a kind o' shuttin' his eyes so that she shouldn't see he was lyin', 'we'll talk about that when we come back.
"Nay, sure. Does he get ony wage?" "Nawe," replied Skedlock; "he's drawn his wage wi' his teeth, so fur. But he's larnin', yo' known he's larnin'. Where's yo'r Jone? I want to see him abeawt some plants." "Well," said Nanny, "sit tho down a minute. Hasto no news? Thae'rt seldom short of a crack o' some mak." "Nay," said Skedlock, scratching his rusty pate, "aw don't know 'at aw've aught fresh."
"The name of my story," said he, "is 'The Foreign Prince and the Hermit's Daughter." "We thought of a good many other names for it," said Pomona, "and I wanted to call it 'The Groundless Prince'; but Jone he said that groundless applies to things there is no reason for, and as so many princes are of that kind, somebody's feelings might be hurt. And so I gave in."
"That afternoon we gawked around, a-lookin' at all the outside shows, for Jone said he'd have to be pretty careful of his money now, an' he was glad when I told him I had two free tickets in my pocket for a show in the evenin. "As we was a-walkin' down to the ferry, after supper, says he: "'Suppose you let me have a look at them tickets. "So I hands 'em to him.
"Jone an' I looked at each other, but we didn't speak for a minute. "'Then, says I, 'here's a pretty kittle o' fish. "'I should kinder say so, says Jone. 'We've got these here two lunertics on our hands, sure enough, for there ain't no train back to Pokus tonight, an' I wouldn't go back with 'em if there was. We must keep an eye on 'em till we can see the doctor to-morrow.
The hand of man had left no mark there, except the grass-grown pack-horse road. There was no sound nor sign of life immediately around me. The wind was cold, and daylight was dying down. It was getting too near dark to go by the moor tops, so I made off towards a cottage in the next clough, where an old quarry-man lived, called "Jone o'Twilter's." The pack-horse road led by the place.
Andrew Jackson an' General Tom Thumb a-walkin' down the path. "'What shall we do? says I. "'Come along, says he. 'We aint a-goin' to stop for them. Get up, all the same. "I tried to get up as he said, but it wasn't so easy for me on account of my not bein' such a high stepper as Jone, an' I was a good while a-gettin' a good footin' on the board. "Mrs.
He reads one of 'em, and then he reads the other, which he needn't 'a' done, for they was both alike, an' then he turns to me, an' says he: "'What kind of a man is your boarder-as-was? "It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to say jus' what he was, but I give Jone the idea, in a general sort of way, that he was pretty lively. "'So I should think, says he.
Jone squeak an' say, 'Shoot me quick befo' I choke. But Frenchy stop an' pull 'im out. Yais. An' then they shoot Frenchy. Yais!" He blew a huge volume of smoke and lay back serenely. "Look 'ere, Frenchy," cried Mills, stretching his hand across the table, "I'm in this. They won't catch you here, old son. Savvy? There's my hand for you." "Eh?" "There's my hand, I'm tellin' you.
"I'll only give you five minutes. You shot a woman. And, Frenchy " "Yais, Jone." "This makes us quits, see?" "Ver' good, Jone. Good-bye." "Good-bye, Frenchy." Dave ripped out a curse and shifted slightly. The barrel sprang round to him, and he froze into stillness. "Don't do that again, Davy," warned Mills. "You'll catch it hot for this," snarled one of them. "Very like," replied the trader.
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