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Updated: June 20, 2025
Yer may hide, yer may run in de swamps, yer may climb de trees, but, bredren, efn eber dem famines git atter yer, yer gone! dey'll cotch yer! dey's nuffin like 'em on de face uv de yearth, les'n hit's de s'ord; dar ain't much chice twix dem two. Wen hit comes ter s'ords an' famines, I tell yer, gemmun, hit's nip an' tuck.
Such gwines-on as nevah was dem dar Yankees a-ridin' aroun' an' eatin' up de face o' de yearth, like de plagues o' Pha'aoah, Marse Daniel, and rippin' and rarin' an' racin' an' stealin' evehything dey could lay dey han's on, Marse Daniel. An' ouah folks a-ridin' and a racin' and projickin' aroun' in de same onsettled way.
It's a little child ez uster crawl in and out the tail-board of a Mizzouri wagon on the alcali pizoned plains, where there wasn't another bit of God's mercy on yearth to be seen for miles and miles.
And as she went to the hearth I peeps beside his arm, and I sid squat down in the far corner a monkey or a flayin' on the chest, or else the maist shrivelled up, wizzened ald wife that ever was sen on yearth. "'By Jen! says my aunt, as puttin' the poker in his hand, she keeked by his shouther, and sid the ill-favoured thing, 'hae a care, sir, what ye're doin'. Back wi' ye, and shut to the door!
If my thought and feeling for them at this time isn't right, then I've been created wrong." "Marse cap'n, I'se seen de mos' po'ful feelin's en miseries ob de 'victed ones vaperate lak de maunin' dew en I'se larn in my ole age dat de sabin po'r ain' in we uns, ner in any ting we is ob oursefs ner in w'at we po' lil chil'n of yearth kin do. De Lawd say, He come ter seek en sabe de loss; I wuz loss.
Now I axes ebery one ob you all wot know de Scripters ef he don' 'member how de Bible tells how our Lor' when he was on dis yearth cas' seben debbils out o' Mary Magdalum?" A murmur of assent came from the congregation, Most of them remembered that. "But did enny ob you ebber read, or hab read to you, dat he ebber cas' 'em out o' enny udder woman?"
And his name, it is Tommy Islington. Them's the very words I used." He stopped and chafed his clammy hands upon his knees. "It's six months ago sens I made you my pardner. Thar ain't a lick I've struck sens then, Tommy, thar ain't a han'ful o' yearth I've washed, thar ain't a shovelful o' rock I've turned over, but I tho't o' you.
That thar light war never kindled in heaven or yearth." "Let's go!" cried Jeremiah Sayres. "We hev got ter git out'n this somehows." "Go whar?" croaked Silas Boyd, his deep bass voice lowered to a whisper. "I be 'feard ter quit the trail furder.
"Mars' Cary! Mars' Cary! Dey's comin' dis time sho' 'nuff!" "How many?" Cary cried, springing for the roadway and his horse. "Dey's comin' thu' de woods an' Lawd Gawd, de yearth is fyar blue wid' 'em." "Billy!" commanded Cary. "Take Lightfoot as fast as you can down to the edge of the woods. Don't worry, Hallie, they'll never catch me once I'm in the saddle."
"An' no more account than a mole in the yearth," said a third. The ghost at the window listened in aghast dismay and became pale in sober truth, for these boon companions he had accounted the best friends he had in the world. They had no word of regret, no simple human pity; even that facile meed of casual praise that he was "powerful pleasant company" was withheld.
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