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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Don't want to roll about in your sleep!" replied the negro, curtly. It is right to say that, in spite of the advice thus firmly given, Quashy did roll in his sleep that night, with the result that his nose at last got close to the veil and pressed against it. No malignant foe ever took advantage of an enemy's weak point more promptly than did the "skeeters" of Quashy's nocturnal trumpet.
"At length a brilliant thought flashed across the mind of the doctor. 'The shoo-fly the shoo-fly, said he; 'why didn't we think of that? and out he went for his carpetbag, pulled out some suspicious looking bottles labeled with the mystic words, and made for the bed, entirely covered with a ferocious cloud of the aforesaid 'skeeters' and flies stabbing him for dear life.
So I say, if I'm not Huck, you're not Tom, though we can go on for treasure, and I see your argument mostly and believe in it." Mitch grew awful serious and was still for a long while. Finally he said: "Skeeters, I just live Tom Sawyer and dream about him. I don't seem to think of anything else and somehow I act him, and before I die, I mean to see him.
The storm happily was short-lived, and when the sun appeared, enabling them to dry their garments, and a good breakfast had been eaten, the discomforts of the past night were forgotten, and Quashy even ceased to growl at the "skeeters" and lament his double nose.
And let me tell you the skeeters would fairly eat me alive. As it is, I'm cracking at them all the time right now." Frequent examinations, however reassured him. His clothes were drying nicely, and did not seem to be losing any of their former generous proportions.
These blood-thirsty villains began to probe eyelids, ears; in fact there was no part of one's anatomy where they did not alight; and unlike other members of their tribe that dwell farther north, who advance, buzz, sting and retreat these "Jersey Skeeters" knew no retreat.
"Flounderin' round in mud soup, bit to death by skeeters and them what-ye-call-'em flies piums sweatin' yerself bone dry and totin' forty thousand pounds, on yer back, not to mention hardware slung all over ye this ain't no place for a minister's son or a fat guy, I'll tell the world. And this is only the start!" A call from Pedro forestalled any answer.
"'Skeeters ain't in it with the little pests!" vowed Jerry, and the whole party seemed to be of the same opinion. After an early breakfast they made preparations looking to a raid on the rich stores of the bee tree. An old piece of netting was made into nets, so as to cover their faces, while gloves protected their hands fairly well.
Here it was before my eyes. After a bit I called out, "O, Mitch" but he was around sommers and didn't come till I called again. Then he peeked over into the cellar and I just pointed and couldn't speak. Mitch slid down into the cellar and bent over lookin' at the money, and turned to me and said, "Well, Skeeters, this is all right for you but not for me. You found it, and I didn't.
"Drat the little beggars," he was muttering as he kept on digging at his leg, "they sure do beat anything I ever run acrost in all my wanderin's. It ain't so bad to be slappin' at pesky skeeters, 'cause I'm used to sich bloodsuckers; but sandflies, and' jiggers, an' redbugs make a combination that'd be hard to beat."
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