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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Well, a good big heap." "What, a thousand?" "Yes, I reckon so." "Ten thousand?" "I 'spects so." "Twenty thousand." "Mouty likely." "You don't seem to have a clear idea of numbers. How many regiments have you got over there?"
Biff Perkins an' his gang o' gorillers is out thar somewhar, not fur off, huntin' a chance fur deviltry. I'd like mouty t' git a whack at they'uns. Nance'll keep. She's mine now, fast an' good, for ever, an'll wait fur me. Afore we wuz spliced I wuz afeered Zach Barnstable mout work some contrivance t' git her, but now she belongs t' me." The boys took him to their hearts more than ever.
Busy as Si had been, he had kept constantly in mind the possibility of Gabe's attempting some mischief, and did not let himself lose sight of the rebel's gun. He quickly rose, and with a few strides, placed himself between Gabe and his gun. "Where are you goin'?" he said sternly. "I'm a-gwine away," replied the man, in terror-stricken accents. "I'm a-gwine away mouty quick.
"An' also, dey suttinly do git up some mouty curious laws." He paused a moment as though in a still slightly dazed contemplation of the statutory idiosyncrasies of the Caucasian, and then added the key words: "F'rinstance, now, dey got a law dat you got to keep lions an' tigers in a cage. Yassuh, da's de law.
When the puncheon was turned up it revealed a pit beneath, from which she lifted a large jug of whisky. She poured some out in a tin cup and handed it to Shorty. "Take a big swig," she said; "hit's mouty good stuff ole Jeff Thompson's brewin' from yaller corn raised on rich bottom land." Si trembled as he saw his partner take the cup. Shorty smelled it appreciatively.
You 'member dem colts, Mars' Pendleton?" "I don't seem to recall the colts," said the Major. "You know. I was married the first year of the war and living at the old Follinsbee place. But sit down, sit down, Uncle Mose. I'm glad to see you. I hope you have prospered." Uncle Mose took a chair and laid his hat carefully on the floor beside it. "Yessir; of late I done mouty famous.
"That's what I call mouty neat shooting knock yer man over at 150 yards, down hill, with that ole smooth-bore, and without no rest. The oldest han' at the business couldn't've done no better." Harry was too much agitated to heed the compliment to his markmanship. He looked back anxiously and asked: "Are they coming on yet?" "Skacely they hain't," said the stranger, with a very obvious sneer.
"Of course I can not tell as to that. I never hear them say anything about you. They seem to think that you are one of the loyal East Tennesseans that are plentiful about here." "I've been afeered fur the last few days that some uv 'em were Rebels in disguise, an' thet they sort o' suspicioned me. I hev seed two on 'em eyein' me mouty hard. One has a red head, an' 'tother a long black beard."
"The w'ite man he wuks fur is got one an' Jeffy gits the borrowin' use of her it's a mare w'enever he want to, ez I knows frum whut he tells me an' frum whut I seen. Purfessor, that mare is jes' natchelly ordained an' cut out fur peradin' broad ez a feather-tick, gentle ez the onborn lamb, an' mouty nigh pyure white perzactly the right color fur a gran' marshal's hoss.
Hit's mouty hard crossin' at enny time, but hit's awful now, fur the Rockassel's boomin'. The big rains hev sent her up kitin', an' hit's now breast-deep thar in the Ford. We'll git round whar we kin see hit all." Another wide detour to keep themselves in the concealment of the woods brough Fortner and Harry out upon an acclivity that almost overhung the ford, and those gathered around it.
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