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'Not shore, Cunnel, but she can't stand, and the blood will run. I reckon a hun'red and fifty ar done for thar, sartin. 'D the money I'll make that right. Go to the house and get some ointment from Madam she can save her go at once, said my host. 'I will, Cunnel, replied the dirt-eater, taking his broad-brim from the wooden peg where it was reposing, and leisurely leaving the cabin.
I'll clean up a t'ousand to-day say, I like your mug; you ain't no stiff, or I miss my guess, an' I'll put you, next a good t'ing, damme if I don't, an' you don't need to divvy up, neither. Dere's a chestnut runnin' in de Derby what dey call Larcen, an' I'm goin' to plank down a hun'red chicks on him."
'Dae naethin'! echoed Archie, in great wrath. 'Will ye let that freend o' Belzibub rin awa' wid a three hun'red ounces of gold an' dae naethin'? Na, na, ye mauna dae it, I tell ye. Oh, aye, ye may sit there, mem, and glower awa' like a boggle, but ye aren'a gangin' to make yoursel' a martyr for yon. Keep the nugget? I'll see him damned first.
But de Lawd ain't neveh gwine to make a betteh ra-ace by cross'n' one what done-done e'en-a' most all what even yit been done, on to anotheh what, eh " "Yes?" inquired Mme. Castanado. "Well?" "Ah, surely!" cried several, "Tha'z not all?" Mme. De l'Isle appealed to her husband: "Even two, three hun'red mile', that din'n' bring the line of Canada, I think." "No, but, I suppose, of the Ohio."
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