“That’s telling.”
“O, how it smells!—like rotten fish. What is it for?”
“To tole minks.”
“And this?”—taking up another.
“To tole beavers.”
“What is in this little bag?”
“If you must know, Mr. Inquisitive, it is some earth that I got from the place where Joe Bradish kept some foxes, and that they laid on all summer. I’m in hopes to get a silver or cross fox, with it.”
“Uncle Isaac, do give me some of that honey!—just the least little bit of a taste!”
“Well, I’ll give you all just a taste; but I want it to tole foxes and coons.”
He gave them all a little on the point of his knife.