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"If you want to fight, Fluke, come out and fight." "All the same," said he, "ef you sh'd happen to change your mind by 'n' by, as fash'nable fellers in women's light-colored clo's does sometimes, there 's a-goin' to be shutin'." "Come," he said, "you know me! you know me! Confound the pretty clothes! I only put them on so as to try and have Vesty like me!" "Wal' now, Vesty, make your choice.
"Ray," said he, soberly, after a little silence, "when ye see a bear lookin' your way, ef ye want 'im, alwus shute at the end thet's toward ye." There was no better bear-hunter in the north woods than D'ri, and to lose a bear was, for him, no light affliction. "Can't never break a bear's neck by shutin' 'im in the hin' quarters," he remarked. I made no answer.
"A likely pair o' gals them air no mistake." "But I think they made me miss the bear," I answered. "Ray," said D'ri, soberly, "when yer shutin' a bear, ef ye want 'im, don't never think o' nuthin' but the bear." Then, after a moment's pause, he added: "Won't never hev no luck killin' a bear ef ye don' quit dwellin' so on them air gals."
Hickathrift, my man, the doctor must be fetched. Go and send one of the men." "Nay, squire, I'll go mysen," replied the big wheelwright. "Did'st see his goon, Mester Dick?" "No, I saw no gun." "Strange pity a man can't carry a gun like a Chrishtun," said the wheelwright, "and not go shutin hissen that way."
Cocker, he said, 'what mak's Sandy, Lord Rothie, or Wrathy, or what suld he be ca'd? tak' to The Bothie at a time like this, whan there's neither huntin', nor fishin', nor shutin', nor onything o' the kin' aboot han' to be playacks till him, the bonnie bairn 'cep' it be otters an' sic like?
"He went off shutin' an hour ago," explained Phineas Glover. "Reckon he's astern somewhere." Glover, by the way, had been useful. In the beginning of the affray he had brought his mule alongside of the headmost wagon, and there he had done really valuable service by blazing away alarmingly, though quite innocuously, at the gallopading enemy.
"In course human nature turns natchally to pink and white clover, like Vesty; but I tell ye, major, when it comes to a honest jedgment o' grass thar' 's lots o' comfort arter all to be took out o' old red timothy. Old red timothy goes to shutin' right up straight an' minds her own business. She ain't a-tryin' so many o' these d d ructions on ye.
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