Wat you t'ink of dat ?" "I saw a fellow killed that way at Holy Cross," interpolated the trader.
"'Hello,' I say, 'w'at's de matter ?' An' den I see somet'ing 'bout 'im dat look familiar.

Hees face she's all swell' up an' bleedin' lak' raw meat." The Frenchman curled his upper lip back from his teeth and shook his head at the remembrance.
"Jesu, dat's 'orrible sight! Dem fly is drive 'im crazee.

Hees nose an' ears is look lak' holes in beeg red sponge, an' hees eye are close up tight." "He died before you got him in, didn't he ?" "Yes.

He was good man, too.

Some tam' if I ever have bad enemy w'at I like to see catch hell I'm goin' turn 'im loose 'mong dose skeeter-bug." "Holy Mackinaw!" ejaculated Gale.