Think o' him comin' out here in the woods, breakin' faith, so to speak, an' holdin' you, Paul.

Ef I wuz to go over to Europe, which I ain't ever goin' to do--an' wuz to light down in one o' them big cities, Paris or London, do you think I'd tell the fellers in the streets that I knowed more about their town than they did ?" "No, Sol," said Paul, "you're too wise a man ever to do such a thing." "I should hope I wuz," said Sol emphatically.

"Jest think o' me stoppin' a lot o' French fellers in the streets o' Paris, me jest happened in from the woods fur the fust time, an' sayin' to them: 'Here, Bob, be keerful how you cross the street thar, it's a right bad spot fur wagons, an' you'd shorely git run over ef you tried it,' or 'Now, Dick, that thar is the wrong street that you're takin', ef you foller it you'll land a full mile from your cabin.'" "But Frenchmen are not named Bob and Dick," said Paul with a smile.
"Wa'al ef they ain't they ought to be," said the shiftless one with conviction.

"Why they want to call theirselves by all them long names nobody can pronounce, when there are a lot o' good, nice, short, handy names like Dick, an' Jim, an' Bill, an' Bob, an' Hank, layin' 'roun' loose an' jest beggin' to be used, is more'n I kin understand." "We must soon decide what to do," said Henry.

"If the Spanish captain concludes to help the Indians, and with Braxton Wyatt at his elbow I think he is likely to do it, our people in Kentucky will again be in great danger.