He frowned fiercely.
"None o' your shines, gal! you's got to keep a pleasant face, when I speak to ye,--d'ye hear?
And you, you old yellow poco moonshine!" he said, giving a shove to the mulatto woman to whom Emmeline was chained, "don't you carry that sort of face! You's got to look chipper, I tell ye!" "I say, all on ye," he said retreating a pace or two back, "look at me,--look at me,--look me right in the eye,--_straight_, now!" said he, stamping his foot at every pause.
As by a fascination, every eye was now directed to the glaring greenish-gray eye of Simon.
"Now," said he, doubling his great, heavy fist into something resembling a blacksmith's hammer, "d'ye see this fist?
Heft it!" he said, bringing it down on Tom's hand.

"Look at these yer bones! Well, I tell ye this yer fist has got as hard as iron _knocking down niggers_.

I never see the nigger, yet, I couldn't bring down with one crack," said he, bringing his fist down so near to the face of Tom that he winked and drew back.

"I don't keep none o' yer cussed overseers; I does my own overseeing; and I tell you things _is_ seen to.

You's every one on ye got to toe the mark, I tell ye; quick,--straight,--the moment I speak.
That's the way to keep in with me.