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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Langston's paying the Parson a mighty long visit," exclaimed Mr. Sanders, unslinging his sabre and flopping down into the first camp-chair on his way back from morning drill. "Mrs. Cranston, what do you want to bet y'all go back to Scott inside of a week?" "I like it very much better here, especially as our going to Scott would mean 'y'all' were to be again in the field," was the laughing reply.
"At least we won't think that until we have to. It just can't be so," he added. "It's getting mighty dark in here," stated Tom. "I wish it would lighten up a bit. That's a fire ahead there." "Whar y'all gwine?" A giant negro barred the path. Neither Harry nor Arnold is quite clear as to just what happened after the rattlesnake made his leap at the charmed boy.
"Quite well, Gallagher. And you?" "Tol'able, thank you." "These are my friends from the East." The Centipede foreman ran his eyes coldly over Jean's companions until they rested upon Speed, where they remained. He shifted a lump in his cheek, spat dexterously, and directed his remark at the Yale man. "I rode over to see if y'all would like to lay a little mo' on this y'ere foot-race.
Betty shrank away from him quickly, her tawny eyes giving out sparks of fury. "Is you Mistah Pa'khurst, you camel?" Perry made no answer. The crowd pressed up closer and stared at him. He stood frozen rigid with embarrassment, his cardboard face still hungry and sardonic as he regarded the ominous Jumbo. "Y'all bettah speak up!" said Jumbo slowly, "this yeah's a mighty serious mattah.
Ezra sang a thunderous baritone when the niggers lifted up their voices in song around their camp-fire, and he could be heard for half a mile when he called in real earnest. He was calling now, and Buddy, stopping to listen, fancied that he heard his name. A little farther on, he was sure of it. "OOO-EE! Whah y'all, Buddy? "I'm a-comin'," Buddy shrilled impatiently. "What y' all want?"
The silence was nattering, and more loudly now, so that Skinner might hear, he added: "If your man tries to beat the gun, I'll have him wingin' his way to lands celestial before he makes his second jump." Gallagher acknowledged the fairness of this proposition. "This race is goin' to be squar'," said he. "We're ready when y'all are."
"Then you'll start and finish here. Once y'all pass we'll stretch a string to yonder post, and the first man to bust it wins. Who's got a string?" "Mr. Gallagher, won't you use my sash?" Helen quickly unfastened the long blue bow of ribbon from her cotton gown, and Gallagher thanked her, adding: "Moreover, the winner gets it!" For the first time, then, Skinner addressed Miss Blake.
Though we Centipede punchers has ever considered y'all a cheap an' poverty-ridden outfit, we gives you credit for bein' game, till now." He spat for a second time, and regarded Stover scornfully. A murmur ran through the cowboys. "We are game," retorted Stover, "and for your own good don't allow no belief to the contrary to become a superstition."
Men sutney are tuh'ble slippery folks, Miss Cynthy, en y'all des better look out how you monkey wid 'em, 'caze I'se done hed nine, en I knows 'em thoo en thoo. De mo' you git, de likelier 'tis you gwine git one dat's worth gittin', dat's vat I 'low."
His bristly hair was cut short, and stood aggressively erect upon a bullet head, his clothes were soiled and greasy beneath a gray coating of dust. A pair of alert, lead- blue eyes and a certain facility of movement belied the drawl that marked his nativity. He removed his hat and bowed at sight of Miss Chapin. "Good-evenin', Miss Jean!" said he. "I hope I find y'all well."
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