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“I do see,” said George; “and now, as this matter is ours, let us take all the risk, and do all the fighting.” ‘Thee’s welcome to do the fighting, George," said Phineas, chewing some checkerberry-leaves as he spoke; “but I may have the fun of looking on, I sup- pose. But see, these fellows are kinder debating down there, and looking up, like hens when they are going to fly up on to the roost. Hadn’t thee better give ‘em a word of advice, before they come up, just to tell ‘em handsomely they’ll be shot if they do?” The party beneath, now more apparent in the light of the dawn, consisted of our old acquaintances, Tom Loker and Marks, with two constables, and a posse consisting of such rowdies at the last tavern as could be engaged by a little brandy to go and help the fun of trapping a set of niggers. “Well, Tom, yer coons are farly treed,” said one. “Yes, I see ‘em go up right here,” said Tom; “and here’s a path. I’m for going right up. They can’t jump down in a hurry, and it won’t take long to ferret ‘em out.” “But, Tom, they might fire at us from behind the rocks,” said Marks. “That would be ugly, you know.” “Ugh!” said Tom, with a sneer. “Always for saving your skin, Marks! No dan- ger! niggers are to plaguey scared!” |