I hadn’t sot no time fore, cawhalux! some one tuck me rite side o’ the hed with a dratted big book. The fire flew out o’ my eyes in big live coals, and I like to keeled over out of the chair. I felt my blood risin’ like a mill-tail, but they all laughed mightily at the fun, and after a while, ses I:
“Brother, I’m bob’d.”
“Who bob’d you?” ses they.
I guessed the biggest-fisted feller in the room, but it wasn’t him.
The next minit, spang went the book agin Cousin Pete’s head.
“Whew!” ses he, “brother, I’m bob’d.”
“Who bob’d you?” ses they.
But Cousin Pete didn’t gess rite nother, and the fust thing I knowed, whang they tuck me agin. I was dredful anxious to gess rite, but it was no use, I missed it every time, and so did Cousin Pete, and the harder they hit the harder they laughed. One time they hit me a great deal softlier than the rest.
“Brother, I’m bob’d!” ses I.
“Who bob’d you?” ses they.