'Kordin' to Hankins it's a old clock gin out in the springs, I 'low.

How does Hankins know that 'Zek'el's livin' creeters means one thing more'n another?
He talks about them wheels as nateral as ef he was a wagon-maker fixin' a ole buggy.

He says the thing's a gone tater; no more craps of corn offen the bottom land, no more electin' presidents of this free and glorious Columby, no more Fourths, no more shootin' crackers nor spangled banners, no more nothin'.

He ciphers and ciphers, and then spits on his slate and wipes us all out.

Whenever Gabr'el blows I'll b'lieve it, but I won't take none o' Hankins's tootin' in place of it.