“Yes,” says I.
“Well,” says he, “that kind of a man hain’t very dangerous to boys.... He’s all right, Mr. Janes is, whether he’s l-locked us up or not.”
“I hope so,” says I, “but if he keeps us here and then rents his horse to Skip he might as well be the meanest slinkin’ scalawag in the state. It’ll do us as much harm.”
“I dun’no’,” says Mark, and then shut up tight to listen.
Hamilcar was talking again.
“Come to look you over, mister, I dun’no’s you look bad. ’Tain’t that, I calc’late. But, mister, you’re so mortal homely it raises doubts in a feller’s mind. Maybe, mister, you’re as good as George Washington, but you don’t look it.”
“I can’t help what I look like,” says Skip, as mad as a weasel. “What’s that got to do with it?
“Easy, mister, easy,” says Hamilcar. “You’re wantin’ to rent a hoss—not me urgin’ you to take her. You won’t git no place by r’ilin’ yourself all up. Calm down, mister, calm down.”
Skip said something I couldn’t hear.
“Well, mister,” says Hamilcar, “I’ll take you back and show you to the hoss. If she don’t make no objection, I guess maybe you can take her. But if she don’t like you, mister, you couldn’t have her if you was to offer me seven dollars a mile and a new buggy throwed in. Come on.”