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Updated: May 11, 2025
Presently his men in the regiment grew bold to speak of their relatives-mostly in trouble-and to lay cases of tribal custom before him. They would say, squatting in his verandah at twilight, after the easy, confidential style of the Wuddars, that such-and-such a bachelor had run away with such-and-such a wife at a far-off village. Now, how many cows would Chinn Sahib consider a just fine?
Breed slapped his thigh. "Marse Nick Temple, Marsa's son. He's 'bout you size, but he ain' no mo' laik you den a Jack rabbit's laik an' owl. Dey ain' none laik Marse Nick fo' gittin' into trouble-and gittin' out agin." "Where is he now?" I asked. "He at Temple Bow, on de Ashley Ribber. Dat's de Marsa's barony." "His what?" "De place whah he lib at, in de country."
Breed slapped his thigh. "Marse Nick Temple, Marsa's son. He's 'bout you size, but he ain' no mo' laik you den a Jack rabbit's laik an' owl. Dey ain' none laik Marse Nick fo' gittin' into trouble-and gittin' out agin." "Where is he now?" I asked. "He at Temple Bow, on de Ashley Ribber. Dat's de Marsa's barony." "His what?" "De place whah he lib at, in de country."
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