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It's deep midnight here, and an hour or so beyond it, and they'll be over their punchbowls, yonner. That's so, sir, I'm believin'? 'I don't know, upon my word, said Volnay. 'You're out of my depth, my lad. But it's a bit of a sin to talk about punch-bowls, isn't it, on a night like this, when there isn't a hot drink within a hundred miles? Sergeant, this pork is like manna in the wilderness.
"Oop yonner?" queried Tim, in the most extraordinary West-Riding Yorkshire, indicating the direction, by pointing his right thumb over his left shoulder "Weel, Ay'se nought to say aboot it not Ay!" "Soh! the cattle are all right, and the wagon in good trim, and the dogs in exercise, are they?" "Ay'se warrant um!" "Well, then, have all ready for a start at six to-morrow, put Mr.
D'you see um, Massa Brace? movin' 'bout all ober it I see 'um plain as de sun in de hebbens! Scores o' people a'gwine about back'ard an' forrads. See yonner!"
"Firm knoweth the right thing to do," he said; "and like a man he doeth it. But whatever aileth you, Miss Rema, and what can 'e see in the distance yonner? Never mind, my dear, then. Tell me by-and-by, when none of these folk is 'longside of us." But I could not bear to tell him, till he forced it from me under pain of his displeasure.
"Nearly well," he answered; "but those cursed carrion crows are set upon killing me damn their souls!" "We'll hae Leddy Florimel sweirin' awfu', gien ye gang on that gait, my lord," said Malcolm. The marquis laughed feebly. "An' what 's mair," Malcolm continued, "I doobt they 're some partic'lar aboot the turn o' their phrases up yonner, my lord." The marquis looked at him keenly.
"Nearly well," he answered; "but those cursed carrion-crows are set upon killing me damn their souls!" "We'll hae Leddy Florimel sweirin' awfu' gien ye gang on that gait, my lord," said Malcolm. The marquis laughed feebly. "An' what's mair," Malcolm continued, "I doobt they're some partic'lar aboot the turn o' their phrases up yonner, my lord." The marquis looked at him keenly.
"Whoo!" rejoined Snowball, with a slightly derisive inclination of the head; "why for no seem nat'ral? De frigate hersef she sleep on de water widout sails set, not eben a stitch ob her canvas. Well, den: why no dem frigate-birds in de air? What de water am to de ship de air am to de birds. What hinder 'em to take dar nap up yonner, 'ceptin' when dar's a gale ob wind?
"Jist lay yer han' upo' the tiller, my leddy, an' luik oot at yon pint they ca' the Deid Heid yonner. Ye see, whan I turn the tiller this gait, her heid fa's aff frae the pint; an' whan I turn't this ither gait, her heid turns till 't again: haud her heid jist aboot a twa yairds like aff o' 't."
I was a-comin' doon fra Providence, an' when I got along the ither side o' whaur the tents was I see a bit lad a-layin' by the roadside, sick. It was him," pointing to Ralph and smiling kindly on him, "it was Ralph yonner. I says to 'im, 'What's the matter wi' ye, laddie? says I. 'I'm sick, says 'e, 'an' they've goned an' lef me. 'Who's lef' ye? says I. 'The circus, says he.
"The lown win' maun be his breath sae quaiet! He 's no hurryin' himsel' the nicht. There 's never naebody rins efter him. Eh, Phemy! I jist thoucht he was gauin' to speyk!" This last exclamation he uttered in a whisper, as the louder gush of a larger tide pulse died away on the shore. "Luik, Phemy, luik!" he resumed. "Luik oot yonner! Dinna ye see something 'at micht grow to something?"
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