“Ain’t gwine ter come down till yer g’way,” replied Pomp.
“Be heavens, I’ll chop down ther tree, then!”
“Shut up, Barney,” cried Frank. “I say, Pomp.”
“Yassah.”
“How did you get up there?”
“Done falled here off de boat.”
“I see. That tree top must have been under her at the time.”
“Spec so, honey.”
“Come down. Are you hurt any?”
“Lordy, no. Amn’t eben scratched. Take away dat I’ish setter, an I come down dar.”