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I suppose ye expect next year to see me throttin' around with a leather collar an' a brass tag on me neck. If me tax isn't paid th' bachelor wagon'll come over an' th' bachelor catcher'll lassoo me an' take me to th' pound an' I'll be kept there three days an' thin, if still unclaimed, I'll be dhrowned onless th' pound keeper takes a fancy to me. Ye'll niver see it, me boy. No, Sir.
"I can't give you 'commodation, because there's just the baby and myself, James being with Ashby. You kin rest here till evening. Maybe a wagon'll come along and give you a lift, so's you can get there in time " "Get where, ma'am?" "Why, wherever the battle's going to be!" "Yaas, yaas," said Steve.
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