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Updated: June 1, 2025
If she had had any relish for triumph, she might have found it in Birt's astonishment to learn that she understood all the details of entering land, which had been such a mystery to him. "'Twar the commonest thing in the worl', whenst I war young, ter hear 'bout'n folks enterin' land," she said.
Still, Barney had no proof of this, and he felt he would rather suffer unjustly himself than unjustly throw blame on another. "Nothin', nothin'," he said absently. "I war jes' a-studyin' 'bout'n it all." "Well, I wouldn't think about it any more just now," said good-natured Stebbins. "You look like you had been dragged through a keyhole instead of a window-pane.
"Now I ain't er talkin' 'bout'n murlatters, caze dey ain't no reg'lar folks 'tall; dey's des er mixtry. Dey ain't white, an' dey ain't black, an' dey ain't nuffin'; dey's des de same kin' er folks ez de muel is er horse! "An' den dar's Injuns; dey's ergin ernudder kin' er folks. "I usen ter hyear 'em say dat de deb'l made de fuss Injun.
This he stuffed into his own pocket as he talked on about two witches, whom he said he had met that afternoon under an oak-tree feeding on acorns. "An' now, I kem ter remind myself that them witches war inquirin' round 'bout'n a boy war his name Jeemes Coggin? Le''s see! That boy's name war Jeemes Coggin!"
"Dat made de Blue Jay kint er mad; an' sezee, 'Yer pyear ter tuck er mighty intrus' in 'im. "'Well, I dunno 'bout'n dat, sez Miss Robin, sez she, kinter lookin' shame. 'I dunno 'boutn dat; but, den I tink he's er mighty hansum bird, sez she.
There is a certain relief in the mist it veils the infinities of the scene, on which the mind can lay but a trembling hold. "Folks tell all sort'n cur'ous tales 'bout'n this hyar spot," said Job Grinnell, his square face, his red hair hanging about his ears, and his ragged red beard visible in the dull light of the coming day.
"Ain't ye 'shamed o' this hyar hurrah ye hev kicked up fur nuthin'? accusin' o' Birt wrongful, an' sech?" "Naw; I ain't 'shamed o' nuthin'!" said Nate hardily, springing into the saddle. "I'm a-ridin' ter the SettleMINT ter git word from the assayer 'bout'n the gold ez I hev fund. An' when I rides back I'll be wuth more'n enny man in the mountings or Sparty either!"
I looked round toward the shed, an' thar hung the coat yit with nuthin' in the pocket. I didn't know edzactly what ter make of it, an' I jes' shunted the plank back over the paper in the pit like I fund it, an' waited ter see what mought happen. An' all the time ez that thar racket war goin' on bout'n the grant, I knowed powerful well whar 't war, an' who stole it."
Now, like my ole marster, yer pa's gran'pa, wat riz me in ole Furginny, he's you chil'en's forecister; an' dis nigger wat I'm tellin' yer 'bout'n, he waz my fuss forecister; an' dats' de way dat I've allers hyearn dat he come ter be black, an' his hyar kinky; an' I b'lieves hit, too, caze er nigger's de sleepies'-headed critter dey is; an' den, 'sides dat' I've seed er heap er niggers in my time, but I ain't nuber seed dat nigger yit wat's wite, an' got straight hyar on his head.
I put it back in the pocket o' the coat." Jube Perkins laid a sudden hand upon his collar. "'Tain't no use denyin' it, Birt," he said with the sharp cadence of dismay. "Gin the grant back ter Nate, an' mebbe he won't go no furder 'bout'n it. Stealin' a paper like that air a pen'tiary crime!" Birt reeled under the word. He thought of his mother, the children.
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