"What is it, Ike?"
"Dis yar's gittin' ticklish."
"Yes; be still."
Unmindful of this injunction, Ike continued:
"Somet'ing got to be did mighty soon, or dis chile can't stan' de strain."
"Wait."
"But it's time to heab de rocks."
"Not till I give the word."
"But as I'm a sinner I can heah 'em!"
"Where?"