But tomorrer'll do, I 'spect." The speaker bunched his thick lips together like the stem-end of a tomato and shot a bumble-bee dead that had lit on a weed seven feet away.
One after another the several chewers expressed a charge of tobacco juice and delivered it at the deceased with steady, aim and faultless accuracy.
"What's a stirrin', down 'bout the Forks ?" continued Old Damrell.
"Well, I dunno, skasely.

Ole, Drake Higgins he's ben down to Shelby las' week.

Tuck his crap down; couldn't git shet o' the most uv it; hit wasn't no time for to sell, he say, so he 'fotch it back agin, 'lowin' to wait tell fall.

Talks 'bout goin' to Mozouri--lots uv 'ems talkin' that-away down thar, Ole Higgins say.

Cain't make a livin' here no mo', sich times as these.