“What’s busted, Jem?”
“North pole has busted, and no mistake. The ground is kivered with snow.”
I sprung up, and sure enough thar was the snow, the first that ever fell in the creek, jest follerin’ civilization. I knowed thar’d be howlin’, smashin’ of teeth, burnin’ of brimstone, and a worryin’ of the stranger, on the creek to-day, and so, I reckon, did the dogs, ’cause when Hembry blowed the horn, they come a shoutin’ like so many imps. Jest imagin, Captin, thirty full-grown dogs, a cross of the blood on the old Virginny foxhound, keen as a bowyer, and adzactly of Jem’s opinion, signifying as plain as they could, if huntin’s goin’ on, they’d take a chance.
Well, we splurged about till breakfast-time, gettin’ up and cleanin’ guns, and countin’ balls, and dividin’ powder.
“Bring out them bar-sassage and deer melts,” says Jem; “and then, Chunkey, we’ll locomotion.”
His eyes all the time lookin’ like a live coal of fire, and every muscle jumpin’ for joy.
“Look out, bar,” says he.
“Say low, and keep dark, panter,” says I.
“Deer, don’t you come nigh me,” says Jem, and then he commenced singin’:
“Oh, rain come wet me, sun come dry me,