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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Why, talkin' about sprucin' up, as you call it, you drift to a fire that occurred across the street from the place where there's a frowsy-topped waitress that's got you goin'. Well, le's foget it. Do we go to southern California together, or not? Our pile's dwindlin' on account o' this butterfly life you're leadin'."
I was ever so glad to see Jim. I warn't lonesome now. I told him I warn't afraid of HIM telling the people where I was. I talked along, but he only set there and looked at me; never said nothing. Then I says: "It's good daylight. Le's get breakfast. Make up your camp fire good." "What's de use er makin' up de camp fire to cook strawbries en sich truck? But you got a gun, hain't you?
"Come," he resumed, "le's bedizen ourselves; le's assume th' shplendor 'propriate t' th' 'casion." When the troops marched in in the afternoon, the encountered at the head of the crowd that met them at the crossing of the creek just ouside of town, a man who seemed filled with deep emotion, and clothed with strange fancies.
"Five dollars." "By jings, Mars Tom, le's shove for home right on de spot! Hit's more'n a dollar en a half apiece, hain't it?" "Yes." "Well, ef dat ain't makin' money de easiest ever I struck! She jes' rained in never cos' us a lick o' work. Le's mosey right along, Mars Tom." But Tom was thinking and ciphering away so busy and excited he never heard him. Pretty soon he says: "Five dollars sho!
He stopped suddenly and demanded: "Is there a long rope here?" I pointed to Uncle Peabody's hay rope hanging on a peg. "Le's hang a captive," he proposed. At first I did not comprehend his meaning. He got the rope and threw its end over the big beam. Our old shepherd dog had been nosing the mow near us for rats. Amos caught the dog who, suspecting no harm, came passively to the rope's end.
"Maybe hundred thousand dollars in that hole. You wouldn't rob your old frien', would you, Curly? Course you wouldn't. I know you better'n yourself, better'n yourself. Le's have another: We're good frien's, all of us, I say, all of us." And so it went, and so went the whisky, and so went Curly Jim's hopes up and down.
"I want you to tell me frankly just what you think of it." "An' I will do that though it's many the fight I've been in because of speakin' me mind," Murphy stated, grinning a little. "An' now le's see what ye got there.
"I reckon you're right, Uncle Sebastian, and I reckon I know you're aimin' at somethin'. You came 'way up here to spring somethin' on me, didn't you? Well, le's have it." "Ye're right, Hiram I did. In the first place, then, they're sayin' ye're the laziest fella in Bear Valley." Hiram laughed mirthlessly. "There's nothin' new in that, Uncle Sebastian. They've said the same since paw died.
I bent over the shoulder of Jed Feary for a view of the manuscript, closely written with a lead pencil, and marked with many erasures. 'Le's hear it, said David Brower. Then I moved the lamp to his elbow and he began reading: 'A talk with William Brower on the occasion of his going away to college and writ out in rhyme for him by his friend Jedediah Feary to be a token of respect.
"No yer don't, Miss Diddie; don't yer name 'im no sich," said Chris; "le's name im' Marse Whale, w'at swallered de man an' nuber chawed 'im."
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