Presley got his wheel under way.
"I hef some converzations mit Herran," Hooven called after him.

"He doand doo ut bei hisseluf, den, Mist'r Derrick; ach, no.

I stay bei der rench to drive dose cettles." He climbed back to his seat under the wagon umbrella, and, as he started his team again with great cracks of his long whip, turned to the painters still at work upon the sign and declared with some defiance: "Sieben yahr; yais, sir, seiben yahr I hef been on dis rench.

Git oop, you mule you, hoop!" Meanwhile Presley had turned into the Lower Road.

He was now on Derrick's land, division No.