He couldn't stand it any longer, since it was no use, I licked him in sich short order: he wasn't a mouthful.
After that, the whole ground was mine; nobody could stand before me, 'squire; though now the case may be different, for Sumter's a destrict, 'squire, that a'n't slow at raising game chickens." At the close of this rambling harangue, Mark Forrester, as we may now be permitted to call him, looked down upon his own person with no small share of complacency.

He was still, doubtless, all the man he boasted himself to have been; his person, as we have already briefly described it, offering, as well from its bulk and well-distributed muscle as from its perfect symmetry, a fine model for the statuary.

After the indulgence of a few moments in this harmless egotism, he returned to the point, as if but now recollected, from which he set out.
"Well, then, Master Colleton, as I was saying, 'twas at this same muster that I first saw the 'squire.

He was a monstrous clever old buck now, I tell you.

Why, he thought no more of money than if it growed in his plantation--he almost throwed it away for the people to scramble after.
That very day, when the muster was over, he called all the boys up to Eben Garratt's tavern, and told old Eben to set the right stuff afloat, and put the whole score down to him.