Читать книгу Traits of American Humour (Vol. 1-3) - Various Authors - Страница 18

Table of Contents

Some years since, when the State of Missouri was considered “Far West,” there lived on the bank of the river of the same name of the State, a substantial farmer, who, by years of toil, had accumulated a tolerable pretty pile of castings; owing, as he said, principally to the fact that he didn’t raise much taters and unyuns, but rite smart of corn. This farmer, hearing that good land was much cheaper farther south, concluded to move there. Accordingly, he provided his eldest son with a good horse, and a sufficiency of the needful to defray his travelling and contingent expenses, and instructed him to purchase two hundred acres of good land, at the lowest possible price, and return immediately home. The next day Jeems started for Arkansas, and after an absence of some six weeks, returned home.

“Well, Jeems,” said the old man, “how’d you find land in Arkensaw?”

“Tolerable cheap, dad.”

“You didn’t buy mor’n two hundred acres, did yu, Jeems?”

“No, dad, not over tu hundred, I reckon.”

“How much money hev yu got left?”

“Nary red, dad; cleaned rite out!”

“Why, I had no idee travellin’ was so ’spensive in them parts, Jeems.”

“Wal, just you try it wonst, an’ you’ll find out, I reckon.”

“Wal, never mind that, let’s hear ’bout the land, an’—but war’s yure hoss?”

“Why, yu see, dad, I was a goin’ along one day—”

“But war’s yure hoss?”

“Yu hole on, dad, an’ I’ll tell yu all ’bout it. Yu see, I was agoin’ along one day, an’ I met a feller as said he was goin’ my way tu—”

“But war’s yure hoss?”

“Dod darn mi hide, ef yu don’t shut up, dad, I’ll never git tu the hoss. Wal, as we was both goin’ the same way, me an’ this feller jined cumpenny, an’ ’bout noon, we hitched our critters, an’ set down aside uv a branch, and went to eatin’ a snack. Arter we’d got thru, this feller sez tu me, ‘Try a drap uv this ere red-eye, stranger.’ ‘Wal, I don’t mind,’ sez I—”

“But war’s yure hoss?”

“Kummin’ tu him bime-by, dad. So me an’ this feller sot thar, sorter torkin’ an’ drinkin’, an’ then he sez, ‘Stranger, let’s play a leetle game uv Seven-up,’ a takin’ out uv his pocket a greasy, roun’-cornered deck uv kerds. ‘Don’r keer ef I du,’ sez I. So we sot up side uv a stump, and kummenced tu bet a quorter up, an’ I was a slayin’ him orful—”

“But war’s yure hoss?”

“Kummin’ tu him, dad. Bimeby, luck changed, an’ he got tu winnin’, an’ pretty sune I hadn’t not nary nuther doller. Then sez he, ‘Stranger, I’ll gin yu a chance to git even, an’ play yu one more game.’ Wal, we both plaid rite tite that game, I sware, an’ we was both six an’ six, an’—”

“War’s yure hoss?”

“Kummin’ tu him, dad. We was six an’ six, dad, an’ ’twas his deal—”

“Will yu tell me war’s yure hoss?” said, the old man, getting riled.

“Yes, we was six an’ six, an’ he turned up the Jack!”

“War’s yure hoss?”

“The stranger won him, a-turnin’ that Jack!”