"Ssh! Not so loud."
"Not so the devil! You can't shoo me away any longer. You ain't paid me for the last bunch a chicken I brung heah; and now you want t' shoo me away on this last stuff we done stole togedder."
"Will you hush. We'll talk this matter over outside."
"We's go'n talk it over heah, 'n' you go'n hand me ove fo' dollah's, ah I'm go'in' t' take it outta yo' stinkin' hide!" He looked at Moore now with an evil eye, and that worthy backed up and picked up a pair of scissors, that he had brought in late one night from one of the mysterious directions.
"Oh, you go'n push them things through me, eh! All right, ole nigga. This is wha you 'n' me mixes it. I gi'n fix you ah you gi'n fix me," and with that he started in the other's direction.
"Now, Sha'p Head. Ain' I done always treated you right?" Moore whimpered.
"Naw, naw! 'n that's what I'm gi'n land on you cause!"
"Now just name a time when I ain'," Moore temporized, nervously.
"Naw, I say. Git out that winda 'f you don't wanta be killed. Git out wi' out awgument, cause I g'in to make you run some. Don't you b'lieve I'm go'n run yu?"
"'C'ose I b'lieve you. I b'lieve you go'n come in heah 'n' run me outta ma house, outta ma house," cried Moore, piteously.