"Now we _are_ made--as safe as if we'd got there." "Well, do stop, then," said Eliza, "and do something for that poor man; he's groaning dreadfully." "It would be no more than Christian," said George; "let's take him up and carry him on." "And doctor him up among the Quakers!" said Phineas; "pretty well, that! Well, I don't care if we do.

Here, let's have a look at him;" and Phineas, who in the course of his hunting and backwoods life had acquired some rude experience of surgery, kneeled down by the wounded man, and began a careful examination of his condition.
"Marks," said Tom, feebly, "is that you, Marks ?" "No; I reckon 'tan't friend," said Phineas.

"Much Marks cares for thee, if his own skin's safe.

He's off, long ago." "I believe I'm done for," said Tom.

"The cussed sneaking dog, to leave me to die alone! My poor old mother always told me 't would be so." "La sakes! jist hear the poor crittur.