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While you're at it you can show him the plum foolishness of sickin' his idiot girl on Stephen. How it won't bring 'em any good an' will jus' get me out on his trail red-hot. He'll understand." And the stern old mouth set into lines of which Blenham read the full and emphatic meaning. "Go on: anything else to report?"
Put her down." Master Maloney obediently dropped the cat, which sprang nimbly on to an upper shelf of the book-case. "I wasn't hoitin' her," he said, without emotion. "Dere was two fellers in de street sickin' a dawg on to her. An' I comes up an' says, 'G'wan! What do youse t'ink you're doin', fussin' de poor dumb animal? An' one of de guys, he says, 'G'wan!
"Oh, don't hurt her!" she cried anxiously. Master Maloney eyed the cat as if he were seeing it for the first time. "I wasn't hoitin' her," he said, without emotion. "Dere was two fresh kids in the street sickin' a dawg on to her. And I comes up and says, 'G'wan! What do youse t'ink youse doin', fussin' de poor dumb animal? An' one of de guys, he says, 'G'wan!
But I had no idee larnin' come so hard. I'd ruther fight Injuns an' wil' cats or rob a bee tree any day than ter tackle them pot hooks you're sickin' after me " "Well, I won't give up," she interrupted impatiently, "and you'd just as well make up your mind to stick to it. You can do what other men have done. You're good, honest and true, you're kindhearted and popular.
Off on de fiel' you foller de plough, Den w'en you're tire' you scare de cow, Sickin' de dog till dey jomp de wall, So de milk ain't good for not'ing at all An you're only five an' a half dis fall, Little Bateese!
If you want to be me friend, I ain't kickin' even if you did tell the sheriff he ought to git acquainted with me closer. I'm goin' to speak right out. I reckon it's the best way. I got a proposition. If you'll quit sickin' them herders onto cowboys and if Jack'll quit settin' the punchers at your herders, I'll open up me spring and run her down to where they's water for everybody.
"But, Uncle Remus, I ain't bad," said the little boy plaintively. "Who dat chunkin' dem chickens dis mawnin? Who dat knockin' out fokes's eyes wid dat Yallerbammer sling des 'fo' dinner? Who dat sickin' dat pinter puppy atter my pig? Who dat scatterin' my ingun sets? Who dat flingin' rocks on top er my house, w'ich a little mo' en one un em would er drap spang on my head?"
"I reckon you lay dat you kin cut yo' mulatter capers wid me all you please, but you'd better look out sharp 'fo' you begin foolin' 'long er Marse Christopher. Dar you go agin, now. Ain' dat des like you? Wat you wanter go sickin' atter dat ole hyar fer, anyhow?" "So that is one of young Blake's hangers-on?" observed Carraway, with a slight inflection of inquiry. "Uncle Boaz, you mean?
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