“Why, you must have laid it down on the ground when we came after the alligator.”
“Sure I did, Mass’ George. Ah, you are clebber boy. Come ’long, we find um we go back.”
“No, no, stop. I want that head carried home.”
“But um so heaby, Mass’ George, and poor Pomp drefful hot an’ tire.”
“Dreadful lazy you mean,” I cried, angrily. “Come, sir.”
“Now, Mass’ George cross again, and goin’ break poor lil nigger heart,” he whimpered.
“Stuff! Sham! Lay hold of that head.”
“Break um back den, carry dat great heaby thing.”
“It will not. You didn’t think it heavy when you dragged it along with the axe.”
“Head all hot den, Mass’ George; got cold now.”