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"Lor' A'mighty, chile!" interrupted the old woman, "whar's you gwine? You mustn't say one word 'bout gwine out o' dis house dis night. I's got a bed all fixed for you, an' Pomp will take you up early in de mornin', an' show you de way fru de swamp." "Put away dat gun, young massa," chimed in Pomp; "dere's no danger."
"Whar's ye gwine to, Mas' Sam?" asked Joe. "Sh, sh," said Judie. "Don't talk Joe, but do as Brother Sam tells you. Don't you know he always knows what's best? Besides, maybe he hasn't quite found out where he's going yet, himself." But Joe was not as confident of Sam's genius for doing the right thing as Judie was, and so, after crawling for some distance, he again broke silence. "Miss Judie."
"He's powerful gaunted up, yo' war-horse, Bud." "Mighty strength'nin' ploughin' is, but not stimmerlatin'!" "High-strung animal, that clay-bank o' Pink's." Pink's temper was in that state where he enjoyed hugely gibes at his friends' expense, but was in no mood to receive amiably jests directed against himself. "Whar's you-all's horse?" he shouted, in exasperation, to one of his tormentors.
And when the Colonel see my pa, he smiled all over his face and got up and came over and shook his hand, and put his arm around him and says, "You look a little peaked, Hardy. We'll give you some rations that'll fatten you up. Whar's your fiddle?" he says to John.
Dat Gen'l, he not ride slow, I tell you; he go fas'. And, afore de Laud, I 'spected you ebery one killed or cotched by dem Sesh; den whar's de use ob me stayin' any mo' at dat place, Marsa Gen'l? "'Well, Ham, did you ever study law? "'No, sir; I 'spect not; I dunno what it am. "'I think you would have made a good lawyer, Ham. "'Well, Marsa Gen'l, de truf is, ole Ham no good for nuffin'. I cannot stand dis fitin'; dat am de truf, Marsa Gen'l.
"I am not going to land at the big wharves," said Sylvia. "I am going to that wharf near Miss Patten's garden. And then we'll tell Uncle Peter where the Butterfly is." It was early in the afternoon when Estralla appeared at the cloor of her mammy's kitchen. "Whar on airth you been? An' whar's yo' missy?" demanded Aunt Connie. "Didn' I makes her a fine om'lit fer her dinner, an' it's ruinated."
Every one spoke to him and after surveying the party he drew a chair out from the table, sat down and began to tug at the harness, pulling hard against the resistance of a rusty buckle. "Whar's that luther string?" he inquired of his wife. "What luther string?" "The one I told you to put away for me some time last fall mebby fall a year ago. Whar is it?" "Gracious alive Jasper, I don't know.
Jackson also rose as Woodhull staggered to his feet. "Ye knew this man orto kill ye, an' ye sneaked hit, didn't ye? Whar's yer gun?" "There!" Woodhull nodded to the bog, over which no object now showed. "I'm helpless! I'll promise! I'll swear!" "Then we'll not sound the No-quarter charge that you and I have heard the Spanish trumpets blow.
But that didn't make no difference to the Pattyroolers. They'd hide in the bushes, or wait along side of the road, and when the niggers come from meeting, the Pattyroolers's say, 'Whar's your pass'? Us Goforth niggers used to start running soon as we was out of church. We never got caught. That is why I tell you I cant use my legs like I used to.
Wilson, finding an envelope in his pocket, dropped to a boulder and began writing. "W. B. J., Exeter," he scribbled. "Am at the mine. The tapping has stopped. No one else can go in, so I am going myself. Please send down operator from Ledges to read my tapping if I am unable to return. "Jennings." "Redding! Whar's Red?" shouted Muskoka as he folded the message. "Here. What?"
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