“O, yes, you must.”
“Can’t, no how.”
“Why not?”
“Darsn’t, De doctor’d knock my ole head off. De doctor mus hab ole Solomon. Can’t get along widout him. Yah, yah, yah! Why, de whole ’Cad-emy’d go to tarnal smash ef ole Solomon clar’d out dat way. Gracious sakes! Why, belubbed bred-ren, I’m sprised at you. An’ me de Gran Pandrum!”
“True,” said Bart, gravely. “Too true. It was very thoughtless in us, Grand Panjandrum; but don’t say that we asked you. Keep dark.”
“Sartin,” said old Solomon, with a grin. “Dar’s no fear but what I’ll keep dark. Allus been as dark as any ole darky could be. Yah, yah, yah!” And he rolled up his eyes till nothing could be seen but the whites of them, and chuckled all over, and then, with a face of mock solemnity, bobbed his old head, and said,—
“Far well, mos wos’ful, an’ all de res ob de belubbed breddren.”
And with these words he departed.
After this, the boys gave themselves up to the business of the day. And what was that? O, nothing in particular, but many things in general.
First and foremost, there was a grand jubilation to be made over the encampment of the “B. O. W. C.;” then a grand lamentation over the end of the recess. Then they talked over a thousand plans of future action. In these woods there were no bears, nor were there any wild Indians; but at any rate, there were squirrels to be shot at, and there were Gaspereaugians to be armed against.