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Updated: June 25, 2025
The room flickered and faded before his eyes, reappeared, faded again, went out, and left him asleep. Meantime Dick Bullen, closing the door, confronted his companions. "Are you ready?" said Staples. "Ready," said Dick; "what's the time?" "Past twelve," was the reply; "can you make it? it's nigh on fifty miles, the round trip hither and yon." "I reckon," returned Dick, shortly. "Whar's the mare?"
I never viewed the man's beastis, ye'll bear me witness, Con." "Me?" said Con, with a laugh. "I dunno nuthin' 'bout yer doin's. Whar's Mr. Sneed's horse?" "Never seen him, never laid eyes on him! How folks kin hev the heart ter 'cuse me of sech doin's ez I never done!" he lifted his eyes as if appealing to heaven. "The killin' 's the wust; an' Mr.
"Is Miss Carrie po' white folks, Mammy?" asked Dumps, in horror, for she had been taught by Mammy and Aunt Milly both that the lowest classes of persons in the world were "po' white folks" and "free niggers." "She ain't no rich white folks," answered Mammy, evasively; "caze efn she wuz, she wouldn't be teachin' school fur er livin'; an' den ergin, efn she's so mighty rich, whar's her niggers?
"Well, cousin," said the other, "ye'll wear black at my burial." "Deil a black cloak will be there, Robin, but the corbies and the hoodie-craws, I'se gie ye my hand on that. But whar's the gude thousand pund Scots that I lent ye, man, and when am I to see it again?"
Gim'me that hank'cher! Fantods is played out. I would ruther play leap frog over a buzz-saw than than pester and rile Marse Alfred, and have the cunstable clawing my collar." "You poor, pitiful, rascally, cowardly creetur! Whar's that oath you done swore, to help 'fend Miss Ellie's child? And you a deacon, high in the church!
Whar's Peg an' the Roan? Gawd Almighty, man! You ain't meanin' them cayuses thar are all you've got left of thet grand bunch of hosses?" There was scarcely a sound. All the riders were still. Slone fastened his eyes on Creech. He saw a gaunt, haggard face almost black with dust worn and sad with big eyes of terrible gloom.
"Wal, lass, hyar you are," he said, with a gladness deep in his voice. "Now, whar's the boy?" "Dad I've not seen Jack since breakfast," replied Columbine, tremulously. "Sort of a laggard in love on his weddin'-day," rejoined the rancher. His gladness and forgetfulness were as big as his heart. "Wade, have you seen Jack?" "No I haven't," replied the hunter, with slow, long-drawn utterance.
When we git dar, maybe well go on twel we gits ter Massasip." "Is you got enny folks out dar?" inquired Uncle Remus. "None dat I knows un." "An' you er takin' dis 'oman an' deze chillun out dar whar dey dunno nobody? Whar's yo' perwisions?" eying a chest with a rope around it. "Dem's our bedcloze," the old negro explained, noticing the glance of Uncle Remus.
A bevy of barefooted, tow-headed children were making mud pies in a marshy dip close by. An ancient hound, that had renounced the chase and assumed in his old age the office of tutor, seemed to preside with dignity and judgment. He, too, had descried the approach of the stranger. He growled, but made no other demonstration. "Whar's Nate?"
As he entered she turned sharply towards him. "Don't nobody keer nothin' for this yere?" she said, "ain't nobody comin' nigh? Whar's he? Don't he take no int'rus' in the pore little lonesome child? I 'spect yo'll haf to take it ye'self, Mars' De Willerby, while I goes in dar." Tom stopped short, stricken with a pang of remorse. He looked down at the small face helplessly.
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