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There's a gep'mun waitin' to see yo'." Fanny choked on a yawn. "A what!" "Gep'mun. Says yo-all goin' picnickin'. He's in the settin' room, a-lookin' at yo' pictchah papahs. Will Ah fry yo' up a li'l chicken to pack along? San'wiches ain't no eatin' fo' Sunday." Fanny flung back her covers, swung around to the side of the bed, and stood up, all, seemingly, in one sweeping movement.
Martin threw another log on the fire, as if by so doing he could illuminate more than the cold black room. "What yo-all been doing? Molly, come here." Frightened and trembling the girl came forward. She looked far older than her years. Her bold, coarse beauty had developed amazingly during the past few months, and the expression on her face now roused all the dormant manhood in Morley's nature.
Mac," said the child timidly, during a moment of contented silence, her natural use of his intimate nickname, both startling and pleasing Donald, "yo-all allowed thet yo' doctored children mostly.
That was the scene on which Dave Carson gazed, as he rose in his saddle, his breath coming in quicker measures, while a fierce light shone in his eyes, for he was having a part in it all. It was one of the many round-ups on the Bar U range, and there was work for all, more than enough. "Hi there, Gimp! Watch where yo-all are a-ridin'!" "Swing him over there! I'll handle that critter!"
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