I not know vere it vas before.

Maybe de angels show me.

You vas vat Beell call Stutter Brown, I tink maybe?
Ah, now it be all right, senor.
_Bueno_!" She laid her gauntleted hand softly on the rough sleeve of his woollen shirt, her black, appealing eyes flashing suddenly up into his troubled face.
"I moost laugh, senor; such a brav' Americano 'fraid of de girl.

Why not you shoot me ?" "A-a-afraid nothin'," and Stutter's freckled face became instantly as rosy as his admired hair, "b-but I t-tell ye, miss, it's a-a-all d-dirt down th-there, an' not f-f-fit fer no lady ter t-t-traipse round in." The temptress, never once doubting her power, smiled most bewitchingly, her hands eloquent.
"You vas good boy, just like I tink; I wear dis ol' coat--see; an' den I turn up de skirt, so.

I no 'fraid de dirt.