" Whereupon that worthy launched into his full
tide of narrative, as follows:
"Well, you sees, Mr. Aircher, I tuk up this mornin' clean up the old
crick side, nigh to Vernon, and then I turned in back of old Squire
Vandergriff's, and druv the mountains clear down here till I reached
Rocky Hill; I'd pretty good sport, too, I tell you; I shot a big gray
fox on Round Top, and started a raal rouser of a red one down in the big
swamp, in the bottom, and them sluts did keep the darndest ragin' you
ever did hear tell on. Well, they tuk him clean out across the open,
past Andy Joneses, and they skeart up in his stubbles three bevies, I
guess, got into one like! there was a drove of them, I tell you, and
then they brought him back to the hills agin, and run him twice clean
round the Rocky Hill, and when they came round the last time, the
English sluts warn't half a rod from his tail no how, and so he tried
his last chance, and he holed; but my! now, Mr. Aircher, by darn, you
niver did see nothin' like the partridges; they kept a brushin' up and
brushin' up, and treein' every little while; I guess if I seen one I
seen a hundred; why, I killed seven on 'em with coarse shot up in the
pines, and I daredn't shoot exceptin' at their heads.
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