Jube. Golly! hear dat Chineesers infusions ob potrey. Dat all comes ob his contract wid art. Win-Kye, gib me dem ar 'tensils.
Win-Kye. Me paintee locks, me paintee tlees, all samee so. (Points at sign on rock.) "Washee, washee." (Exit 1 E. R.)
Jube. See him hoof it. Dis years de melencolic effect ob tryin' to turn a mongo into a Sambo. I's jes' tried to cibilize dat ar heathen, to gib him a brack heart; an' he no sooner gits a hold ob a paint-brush, off he goes, like ole Nebacanoozer, on a tear.
(Enter Moselle, from cabin.)
Moselle. Jube, have you seen my daddy?
Jube. Seen your what? Golly, Mosey, you took my bref away! Seen him! Well, I guess, Mosey, dar was a yearthquake jes' flopped ober dis year camp las' night: seed it, seed it, felt de shock fro my physical cistern; an' I guess de ole man is scourin' round to kill a fatted calf or a mule.
Moselle. What are you talking about, Jube?
Jube. Mosey, brace yerself: be a man. De Book ob Rebelation am open. Abigal's son am returned.
Moselle. Who's son?