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All through, what has my life been? Bend, bend, bend my old creaking back till it would ache like breaking; wade about in the foul mire, never a dry stitch; empty belly, sore hands, hat off to my Lord Redface; kicks and ha'pence; and now, here, at the hind end, when I'm worn to my poor bones, a kick and done with it. He walked a little while in silence, and then, extending his hand, 'Now you, Nance Holdaway, says he, 'you come of my blood, and you're a good girl.
All through, what has my life been? Bend, bend, bend my old creaking back till it would ache like breaking; wade about in the foul mire, never a dry stitch; empty belly, sore hands, hat off to my Lord Redface; kicks and ha'pence; and now, here, at the hind end, when I'm worn to my poor bones, a kick and done with it."
"'Tis not every Ecclesthorpe fixture," he said, "as we gets a comely wench for maascot. Us be trustin' our hossflesh to you " "Hosses is Grudgers', an' t' lass is mine," interrupted Dick, smiling. "But there be Parson Mallaby to make we mind our manners," objected Redface. "T' cloth," said Dick, "is a good thing. And blood's a better," and so marched his daughter to the front of the brake.
His face, however, was painted in a way which gave him a far from prepossessing expression. "Who are you, Mr. Redface?" asked Tim, instinctively handling his rifle ready for action. "A friend!" answered the Indian. "You come kill my deer. What you want here?" "Arrah, sure, do you call it your deer?" asked Tim.
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