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Uncle Ike looked at him in wonder, as though he was not sure but it was winter, and he was so ill as not to know that summer and fall had passed without his knowing it. "What you got them sliding-down-hill clothes on for, in July?" said the old man, as he put one puckered-up bare foot on the other, in the water, and sozzled them around in the mustard in the bottom of the tub.
"Now I have to go and help the horses, by pushing on some of the heavy wagons with my head. I'll finish the sliding-down-hill part of my story tomorrow." "All right, don't forget!" called Chako, just before the men closed down the sides of the monkey cage. "I won't," promised Umboo. "It was the same way when I was telling my story," said Snarlie, the tiger.
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