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Updated: May 24, 2025
She is of discreet age, and will tell you when it is time to come away, you might stay too long, you know. I've known young persons stay a good deal too long at these interviews, a great deal too long, Susan Posey!" Such was the fatherly counsel of Master Byles Gridley.
Posey was there, and, while Win bustled about in the lean-to kitchen making hot biscuits and coffee, he began to tell us entrancing yarns of the adventures and successes they had enjoyed hunting and trapping together during the previous winter. Apparently neither had felt it any hardship that for months they had been shut off entirely from all companionship with their kind.
Mebbe, if you'd actually been born in Posey County you'd a-knowed enough to be a Jigadier-Brindle. Then I'd a lost you for a pard. This's a great invention. Why, it's softer and comfortabler than one of mother's feather beds. When I get out of the army, I'm going to sleep on nothin' but cedar boughs." "There, you're at it again the Wabash forever," returned Shorty, good-humoredly.
Of course, poor Susan Posey burst out crying, and cried as if her heart would break. Oh dear! Oh dear! what should she do! He was almost killed, she knew he was, or he had broken some of his bones. Oh dear! Oh dear! She would go and see him, there! she must and would. He would die, she knew he would, and so on. It was a singular testimony to the evident presence of a human element in Mr.
"I say, Augustine," said Marie after dozing a while, "I must send to the city after my old Doctor Posey; I'm sure I've got the complaint of the heart." "Well; why need you send for him? This doctor that attends Eva seems skilful." "I would not trust him in a critical case," said Marie; "and I think I may say mine is becoming so!
Not that he cared a fig about the mules, but that he wanted to "jump" somebody. "Go to brimstone blazes, you freckle-faced Posey County refugee," responded Groundhog, the teamster, in the same fraternal spirit. "I'm drivin' this here team." He gave the nigh-swing mule a "welt" that would have knocked down anything else than a swing mule.
Our host listened at the kitchen door, a streak of flour shining white athwart the cataract of his auburn beard, and testified his amusement by a delighted roar that was like unto the rejoicings of a bull of Bashan. "Posey," he exclaimed, "tell 'em about that stingy friend o' yours!" Posey chuckled and pushed his old slouch hat to the back of his head.
Beetle Ring camp passed an uneasy day, the "jug" for once receiving scant attention. Late in the afternoon "Trapper John," an old half-breed who hunted and trapped about the woods, stopped at the camp to get warm. "Didn't see anybody with a horse last night or this morning, eh, John?" asked Posey Breem. "Um, yes," responded the old trapper, quickly. "Saw um horse las' night man ride big foot so."
She was lost in thought, and by the shadow on her face and the glistening of her blue eyes he knew it was her hidden sorrow that had just come back to her. Master Gridley shut up his book, leaving Solomon to his fate, like the worthy Benedictine he was reading, without discussing the question whether he was saved or not. "Susan Posey, child, what is your trouble?"
"Venison 's a mighty healthy meat, ain't it, Doc?" he said, addressing a physician who was with us. The doctor gave assent, and Posey swelled and beamed with pleasure that his opinion had won scientific approval. "Yes, sir," he went on enthusiastically, "it's the healthiest meat there is! Wy, if a man would jest eat venison all the time, he 'd never be sick, an' an' he'd never die, neither!"
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