"Oh, you wretch!"
"Yas; that's whut the grasshopper 'lowed, but the wild turkey picked him up all the same. Wall, I must be shovin' erlong; sorter knockin' 'round fur my health. I'll come over agin ter-morrer an' see whut you've got ter say. But, my lady, ef you say er word ter yo' mother, ur anybody else, it'll be good-by ter the whole kit an' bilin' uv you."
A few hours later, while Potter, John, and Alf were strolling along the river bank, they came upon Juckels. He stood with one hand resting upon a rock that protruded from a rugged cliff. An empty whisky bottle lay on the ground. As the men approached, Juckels looked up with a frown, and, with thick utterance, said:
"I want you fellers ter go on erway frum here now. Never mind, Lucas, I am goin' ter settle with you."
"Any time will suit me," John replied.
"My time will suit me," Juckels rejoined. "It don't make no diffunce whuther it suits you or not. But I want you fellers ter go on erway frum here now, fur I got here fust an' this is mine."
"Whut is yo'n?" Alf asked.
"This possum."
"Whar's any possum?"
"Under this here rock; that's whar."