"Let's we pass on de river queeck." "You didn't touch him again ?" "No, no.

I'm t'rough wit' 'im." She was only too eager to be away from the spot, and an instant later they were afloat in the Peterborough.
"Dis nice batteau," Poleon remarked, critically.

"I mak' it go fas'," and began to row swiftly, seeking the breeze of the open river in which to shake off the horde of stinging pests that had risen with the sun.
"I come 'way queeck wit'out t'inkin' 'bout gun or skeeter net or not'in'.

Runnion she's len' me dis coat, so mebbe I don' look so worse lak' I do jus' now, eh ?" "How did you leave him?
Is he badly injured ?" "No, I bus' it up on de face an' de rib, but she's feelin' good now.
Yes.

I'm leave 'im nice place for stop an' wait on de steamboat--plaintee spruce bough for set on." She began to shudder again, and, sensitive to her every motion, he asked, solicitously, if she were sick, but she shook her head.
"I--I--was thinking what--supposing you hadn't come?
Oh, Poleon! you don't know what you saved me from." She leaned forward and laid a tiny, grateful hand on the huge brown paw that rested on his oar.