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Jest as we left the tarven at Chicago our mail wuz put in our hands, forwarded by the Jonesville postmaster accordin' to promise; but not a word from my pardner, roustin' up my apprehensions afresh. Had his fond heart broken under the too great strain? Had he passed away callin' on my name? My tears dribbled down onto my dress waist, though I tried to stanch 'em with my snowy linen handkerchief.
"Wall, if I thought I could convince men as I have you, I would foller the business stiddy, of skairin' folks, and think I wuz doin' my duty." Says I, my emotions a roustin' up agin, "I should call it a good deal more honorable in you to get drunk yourself; and I should think more of you, if I see you a reelin' round yourself, than to see you make other folks reel.
"Kem down," he said gruffly, clearing his throat in embarrassment. "Kem down, Constant. No use roustin' out the old folks." "What do you want?" asked Hite in a low voice, his heart seeming to stand still in suspense. The constable hesitated. The cold rain dashed into Hite's face. The rail fences, in zigzag lines, were coming into view.
"Sometimes," says he, sort o' dreamily, "sometimes we repair old fellers." "Wall, you won't repair my feller, I can let you know that. I won't have him repaired. The impudence of the hull idee," says I, roustin' up afresh, "goes ahead of any thing I ever dreamed of, of impudence. Repair my feller! I don't want him any different. I want him jest as he is. I would scorn to repair him.
Theer 's allers somethin' to be heerd: even here, in the middle o' the Atlantic. Ah! boy, I was dreamin' a nice dream when ye woke me. I thought I war back on the ole frigate. 'T wa'nt so nice, eyther, for I thought the bos'n war roustin' me up for my watch on deck. Anyhow, would a been better than this watch here. Heerd something ye say? What d'ye mean, little Will'm?" "I heard a voice, Ben.
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