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Updated: June 14, 2025
The carriage stopped, and in a moment more Papa Jack was tossing Lloyd up in his arms, while the old Colonel was helping Elizabeth to alight. "Isn't this a happy mawnin'?" exclaimed the Little Colonel, as she leaned from her seat on her father's shoulder to kiss his sunburned cheek.
"'Scuse me, boss; you is de gen'l'man what rid out with me dis mawnin'. Thank you kindly, suh." "I am going out to 861 again to-morrow afternoon at three," said I, "and if you will be here, I'll let you drive me. So you know Miss Adair?" I concluded, thinking of my dollar bill. "I belonged to her father, Judge Adair, suh," he replied. "I judge that she is pretty poor," I said.
She recognized Miss Kingsley's voice addressing some one outside, and it had a sharpness she had not noted before. "So you came back, did you? Well, you don't look very proud of yourself this mawnin'. Gene Stewart, you look like a coyote." "Say, Flo if I am a coyote I'm not going to sneak," he said. "What 'd you come for?" she demanded. "I said I was coming round to take my medicine."
"Fo' de lawsy's sake! 'Tain't mawnin', is it?" Rad's sleepy voice was heard to announce. "No, it's da'k as " And the voice trailed off into silence. "Tom! Tom!" the young fellow heard his aroused father shouting. Tom knew that his father was in no danger. In fact Mr. Swift's voice did not even betray apprehension. It was to the garage Tom looked for an explosion. But none came.
Dar was one mawnin' I sot at my do' reflectin' on de Gawsp'l, an' de Yanks come jest a tarin' down de road, licketty switch, licketty switch, yellin' like de debil let loose, en firin' of dere pistols, an' I gotter 'fess I los' a heap a courage dat time an' I los' a heap o' breath runnin' 'way from 'em en outer sight.
"I reckon by noon we can say 'Hello! to yore bronc," Dud prophesied. "No need to trail it. All we got to do is follow the river." An hour later he drew up and swung from the saddle. "Now I wonder who we've had with us this glad mawnin'." Dud stooped and examined carefully tracks in the mud. Bob joined him. "Powder River ain't so lonesome now. Met up with friends, looks like.
It's too blame bad 'bout Muley." He scratched his head thoughtfully. "Yes," responded his spouse, "Muley was a heap better cow than you'll ever git ag'in. Why, she give two quo'ts o' melk the very mawnin' she was kilt two quo'ts. I reckon we didn't have to walk no three mile that mawnin', did we?
She's better this mawnin' an' I reckon in a day or so will be helpin' you an' Lucy." Pan set himself some camp tasks for the moment, and annoyed his mother and embarrassed Lucy by plunging into duties they considered theirs. "Mother, don't you and Lucy realize we are going to a far country?" he queried. "We must rustle.... There's the open road. Ho for Siccane for sunny Arizonaland!"
"A black with white face. I'll take him." "Shore you know a hoss. To my eye he's my pick. But the boys don't agree. Bill 'specially has degenerated into a fancier of pitchin' hosses. Ann can ride that black. You try him this mawnin'.... An', son, enjoy yourself." True to his first impression, Jean named the black horse Whiteface and fell in love with him before ever he swung a leg over him.
Soon ez she got 'mos' 'roun' de curve, Marse Chan he followed her, keepin' under de trees so ez not to be seen, an' I led de hosses on down de road behine 'im. He kep' 'long behine her tell she wuz safe in de house, an' den he come an' got on he hoss, an' we all come home. "Nex' mawnin' we all come off to j'ine de army.
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