"If I don't find him in Memphis I'll take the back track to No'th Carolina, stoppin' on the way to see that man Slosson." "Well, I 'low there's a fit comin' to him when he gets sight of you!" and Cavendish's bleached blue eyes sparkled at the thought.
"There's a heap mo' than a fit.

I don't bear malice, but I stay mad a long time," answered Yancy grimly: "You shouldn't talk no mo'," said Polly.

"You must just lay quiet and get yo' strength back.

Now, I'm goin' to fix you a good meal of vittles." She motioned Cavendish to follow her, and they both withdrew from the shanty.
Yancy closed his eyes, and presently, lulled by the soft ripple that bore them company, fell into a restful sleep.
"When he told us of his nevvy, Dick, and I got to thinkin' of his bein' just the age of our Richard, I declare it seemed like something got in my throat and I'd choke.

Do you reckon he'll ever find him ?" said Polly, as she busied herself with preparations for their breakfast.
"I hope so, Polly!" said Cavendish, but her words were a powerful assault on his feelings, which at all times lay close to the surface and were easily stirred.
Under stress of his emotions, he now enjoined silence on his family, fortifying the injunction with dire threats as to the consequences that would descend with lightning--like suddenness on the head of the unlucky sinner who forgot and raised his voice above a whisper.