“I’ll take an’ put my gun in the corner here,” said one. “Now, don’t go blunderin’ aroun’ an’ knock it over; it might go off.”
“All right,” said the other. “Where is it? I’ll put mine by it.”
Then they seemed to be unfastening their belts.
“Hain’t you got a match?” said one. “I’m as wet as a drownded rat. I’ve got some kindlin’ somewheres about my cloze. My will, ef I had it fried,” he went on, “would be to be set down in front of a great big fireplace adryin’ myse’f, an’ a knowin’ all the time that a great big tray of hot biscuit an’ ’leven pounds of butter was a waitin’ for me in the kitchen.”
“Thunderation!” exclaimed the other, “don’t talk that way. You make me so nervous I can’t find the matches.”
“Oh, well,” said the first, “I was jist a think-in’ about eatin’. I wish Mink’ud come on ef he’s a-comin’.”
“I done come, Mars John,” said Mink.
“Confound your black hide!” exclaimed the man; “if I had my gun I’d shoot a hole spang throo you! Whadder you want to skeer me outn a year’s growth for? If you’re here, whyn’t you sesso befo’ you spoke?”
“Kaze I got comp’ny,” said Mink.
The man gave a long whistle, denoting surprise. “Who’ve you got?” he asked, almost savagely.