BOB BURTON;
OR,
THE YOUNG RANCHMAN OF THE
MISSOURI.
CHAPTER I. MR. BURTON'S RANCH.
"Harness up the colt, Clip; I'm going to the village."
"All right, massa!"
"What makes you call me massa? One would think I were a slave-owner."
"Can't help it, massa. There I done forgot it agin," said Clip, showing his white teeth—preturnaturally white they showed in contrast with his coal-black skin. "You see I used to say that to my old massa, down in Arkansaw."