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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Y're givin' me honest measure, Yank," said the rebel, looking at the cup. "Now, if ye hain't filled the bottom o' yer cup with coffee that's bin biled before, I'll say y're all right. Some o' yo'uns air so dod-gasted smart that y' poke off on we'uns coffee that's bin already biled, and swindle we'uns." "Turn it out and see," said Si.
"I'm going down," he said grimly, "if I have to go alone." Brennan scrambled to his feet. "Just a second, Jim, an' I'm with yer. Moore, get up yere. Now, what do yer say? Can we count you in on this shindig?" "Go down thar with yer?" "Sure! Y're a man, ain't yer? If yer say y're game, I'll play square otherwise we'll see to your case afore we start.
If I didn't speak to Jinny she'd think I was angry with her, and cry her eyes out. She has a tender heart, poor girl. She is a sensitive soul, and craves for social distinction. She looks to me to secure them a footing in exclusive circles, Mr. McGuire." "I don't know what y're talkin' about," Stub grumbled, "but that's enough of it, see?"
But he did not move back an inch, while those well-kept hands curled themselves into knots so hard that their knuckles were topped with white. "You wanted to see me?" he said. "Y're wrong!" declared Big Tom. "I didn't want t' see y'. I had t' see y'." "I note the distinction," returned Mr. Perkins. "Y' do!
"A murrain on y'r sowl!" said he, "as there's plague in y'r body, and hell in the slide of y'r feet, like the trail of the red spider. And out o' that come ye, Heldon, for I know y're there. Out of that, ye beast! ... But how can ye go back you that's rolled in that sewer to the loveliest woman that ever trod the neck o' the world!
The slaves and the savages mingled with one another in the friendliest fashion; and as Uncas and his painted and feathered braves now appeared, yelling their war cry and swinging their tomahawks, there was, on hand, as Johnnie remarked to Mr. Buckle, quite an assortment of kitchen and other help for the voyage. "But y're the boss o' 'em all," Johnnie hastened to add.
"I don't want to lose no more money on baby bets," replied a tantalizing voice. "I'll make it $40 or nothin'. Now, youngster, if y're a man " Shorty softly parted the bushes and looked in. Two of the well-known sharpers who hung around the camps had enticed little Pete in there, and to a game of three-card monte.
Johnnie felt boyishly shy and awkward then, looking at the floor and wriggling his toes, and taking back into his cheeks quite a supply of color in the form of blushes. One-Eye also broke forth with commendations. "That's the ticket!" he cried. "No crowin'! Aw, Johnnie, y're a blamed white kid!"
And she tole me, 'Y're going t' meet a high-toned gal. And now !" He said no more after that, only smoked, and stared at Johnnie's sky patch, and twiddled a spurred boot. The cigar finished, he rose and shook hands solemnly, first with Grandpa, who giggled like a delighted child; then with a somewhat subdued Johnnie.
He had evidently been listening. "Ye didn't hear what y're ould fool of a cook was sayin'," she added to the Seigneur, as Rosalie shook her head and answered: "No letters, Madame dear." Rosalie timidly added the dear, for there was something so great-hearted in Mrs.
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