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Solomon had had much curiosity about that ship. He wished to see the man who had gone into the bush and then to Smith's with Arnold. "Sart'n," Solomon answered. They got into a small barge with the General in the cushioned rear seat, his flag in hand. "Make what speed you can," said the General. The oarsmen bent to their task and the barge swept on by the forts.
It seemed as if the trees were shriving after all the green riot of summer, and making ready for sackcloth and ashes. Some stood trembling, and as if drenched in their own blood. Now and then a head was bare and bent, and naked arms were lifted high, as if to implore mercy. "Fine air," said I, breathing deep as we rode on slowly. "'T is sart'n," said D'ri.
She had written on its fly-leaf: "To Barton Baynes, from a friend." "That woman 'pears to like you purty thorough," said Uncle Peabody. "Well, let her if she wants to poor thing!" Aunt Deel answered. "A woman has got to have somebody to like ayes! or I dunno how she'd live I declare I don't ayes!" "I like her, too," I said. "She's been a good friend to me." "She has, sart'n," my uncle agreed.
"Then they gin 'im a shove, 'n' I hearn 'im a-comin'. I flopped over 'n' le' go. Shot away luk a streak o' lightnin'. Dum thing grew steeper 'n' steeper. Jes' hel' up my ban's 'n' let 'er go lickitty split. Jerushy Jane Pepper! jes' luk comin' down a greased pole. Come near tekin' my breath away did sart'n. Went out o' thet air thing luk a bullet eggzac'ly. Shot int' the air feet foremust.
Judas Priest! thought he wus drownded, sart'n. Seemed so I 'd bust out 'n' cry there 'n th' water waitin' fer thet air boy. Soon es I hearn a flop I hed my han's on 'im. "'Who be you? says he. "'D'ri, says I. "'Tired out, says he; 'can't swim a stroke. Guess I 'll hev t' go t' th' bottom." D'ri's narrative was the talk of the garrison.
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