He clasped his hands and tried to think of some prayer.
"Now I lay me," he murmured.
"Shan't we shoot the varmint ?" said one of the Rebels, with a motion of his gun in harmony with that idea.
"O, mister--mister--GOOD mister, DON'T! PLEASE don't! I swear I didn't mean to do no harm to you." "Wall, ye acted monty quare fur a man that didn't mean no harm," said the pursued man, regaining his breath with some difficulty.

"A-chasin' me down with thet ar prod on yer gun, an' a-threatenin' to stick hit inter me at every jump.

Only wanted ter see me run, did yer ?" "O, mister, I only done it because I wuz ordered to.

I couldn't help myself; I swear I couldn't." "Whar's the ossifers thet wuz a-orderin' ye?
Whar's the captins that wuz puttin' ye up ter hit?
Thar wan't no one in a mile of ye.

Guess we'd better shoot ye." Again Jake raised his voice in abject appeal for mercy.