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"Speak-e! tell-ee me who-ee be, or dam-me, I kill-e!" again growled the cannibal, while his horrid flourishings of the tomahawk scattered the hot tobacco ashes about me till I thought my linen would get on fire. But thank heaven, at that moment the landlord came into the room light in hand, and leaping from the bed I ran up to him.

"I bet you ain' got nothin' of de kin'." "All right. Den dey ain' no use in me a tryin' to 'vince you. I jes' be wastin' my bref." "Go on tell me, Ben." "Huh uh you bet I ain', an' ef I tell you you lose de bet." "I don' keer. Ef you don' tell me, den I know you ain' got no news worth tellin'." "Ain' go no news wuff tellin'! Who-ee!"

I have wondered at it a hundred times as I sat under El Mahdi's nose with my feet dangling over the side of the boat. We stopped on the slope where the boat landed. Jud threw back his shoulders and shouted; and someone answered from the other side, "Who-ee!" a call that is said to reach farther than any other human sound. It came high up over the water, clear enough, but as from a great distance.

He caught something harder than a blanket and pulled out a fearful thing a shapeless, muddy bunch of leather tied together with wire and twine. From its ragged end, like the head and claws of a disturbed turtle, protruded human toes. "Who-ee!" yelled Long Collins. "Ranse, are you a-packin' around of corpuses? Here's a howlin' grasshoppers!"

We're goin' ter make out we're travellin' in the big rockin'-cheer, goin' ter New Orleans, an' the little niggers is got ter be Injuns, hid all behin' the trunks an' beds an' door; an' after, we rock an' rock er lo-o-ong time, then we're goin' ter make out it's night, an' stretch mamma's big shawl over two cheers an' make er tent, and be cookin' supper in our little pots an' kittles, an' the little niggers is got ter holler, 'Who-ee, who-eee, an' jump out on us, an' cut off our heads with er billycrow."

As though with malicious intent, the snow swooped down again and the world became an unreal, nightmare world, wherein was nothing save shifting, blinding snowfloury and wind and bitter, numbing cold. Rowdy stood in his stirrups, cupped his chilled fingers around his numbed lips, and sent a longdrawn "Who-ee!" shrilling weirdly into the night.

"Speak-e! tell-ee me who-ee be, or dam-me, I kill-e!" again growled the cannibal, while his horrid flourishings of the tomahawk scattered the hot tobacco ashes about me till I thought my linen would get on fire. But thank heaven, at that moment the landlord came into the room light in hand, and leaping from the bed I ran up to him.

Fact! I saw her pick him up and play with him. WHO-EE! The goose-flesh popped out on me till it busted the buttons off my vest. She ain't my kind of people, Paloma. 'Strange' ain't no name for her; no, sir! That woman's dam' near peculiar." Paloma remained unmoved. "I thought you knew. She used to be a snake-charmer." "A WHAT?" There was no doubt about it. Blaze's hair lifted.

He only saw her lips moving, and could not hear, so he nodded his head, and smiled, and waved, and was gone. So Tyler Kamps had travelled up to Chicago. Whenever they passed a sizable town they had thrown open the windows and yelled, "Youp! Who-ee! Yow!" People had rushed to the streets and had stood there gazing after the train.

The husband bent double at sight of her, stopped, took off his hat, slapped his knee, and relieved his feelings by a sounding "Who-ee!" "What's de mattah wid you, Ben? You ac' lak you mighty happy. Bettah come on in hyeah an' git yo' suppah fo' hit gits col'." For answer, the big fellow dropped the hoe and, seizing the slight form in his arms, swung her around until she gasped for breath.