Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 28, 2025
He was a good old fellow; he meant all right; he'd taken care of Jest Prebol, who had deserved to be shot; he was pretty ignorant of river ways, but he wanted to learn about them; he hadn't hurt their feelings, for he minded his own business, saying not a word about their good times, even if he wouldn't dance himself.
"Hit were Jest Prebol," Mrs. Caope said. "You was tellin' of him, Parson." "Hit were Prebol," Rasba nodded, "an' he shore needed shooting!" "Yas, suh. That kind has to be shot some to make 'em behave theirselves," Mrs Caope exclaimed, sharply. "If it wa'n't fer ladies shootin' men onct in awhile, down Old Mississip', why, ladies couldn't git to live here a-tall!"
Just after dawn, while the rising sun was flashing through the tree tops from east to west, a motorboat driving up stream hailed as it passed. "Ai-i-i, Prebol! Palura's killed up!" Prebol shouted out for details, and the passer-by, slowing down, gave a few more: "Had trouble with the police, an' they shot him daid into his own dance floor and Mendova's no good no more!"
Rasba snapped, and then a smile broke across his countenance. He cried out with laughter, and admitted: "Hit's seo, Prebol! I neveh set up with a gal befo' I come down the riveh. Lawse! I plumb forgot." "I don't wonder," Prebol replied, gravely. "She'd make any man forget. She sung me to sleep, an' I slept like I neveh slept befo'."
Under their onslaught the death which was taking hold of Jest Prebol was checked, and the river rat whose life had been forfeited for his sly crimes became the object of a doctor's sentiment and belief in his own training.
Others might perish through her, while it was not too much to hope that Prebol, through his sufferings, might be willing to profit by their lesson. Rasba was glad that he had not overtaken her that night of inexplicable pursuit.
Buck went in and sat down by the wounded man's bed, giving him the medicines Doctor Grell had left. For the attentions Prebol, in lucid intervals, showed wondering looks of gratitude, like an ugly dog which has been trapped and then set free.
Prebol said, warningly, after a time: "Betteh hit that sweep a lick, Parson, she's a-swingin' in onto that bar p'int." A few leisurely strokes, the boats drifted away into deep water, and Rasba expressed his admiration. "Sho, Prebol! Yo' seen that bar a mile up. We'd run down onto hit." "Yas, suh," the wounded man grinned.
Caope's and another boat dropped off the river to visit friends, and mid-afternoon found Parson Rasba and Prebol alone again, drawing down toward Mendova. Prebol knew that town, and he told Rasba about it. He promised that they would see something of it, but they could not make it that evening, so they landed in Sandbar Reach for the night.
"Likely yo' didn't sleep well," Prebol suggested. "A man cayn't sleep days if he ain't used to hit." "Sleep days?" Rasba looked wildly about him. "Sho! When did I git to sleep, why, I ain't slept I Lawse!" Prebol laughed aloud. "Yo' see, Parson, yo' all cayn't set up all night with a pretty gal an' not sleep hit off. Yo' shore'll git tired, sportin' aroun'." "Sho!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking