Then-- 'Dern sight better staid there!' By means of a dozen or so of pretty direct questions, he pumped my family history out of me.
The leads were going now, in the first crossing.

This interrupted the inquest.

When the leads had been laid in, he resumed-- 'How long you been on the river ?' I told him.

After a pause-- 'Where'd you get them shoes ?' I gave him the information.
'Hold up your foot!' I did so.

He stepped back, examined the shoe minutely and contemptuously, scratching his head thoughtfully, tilting his high sugar-loaf hat well forward to facilitate the operation, then ejaculated, 'Well, I'll be dod derned!' and returned to his wheel.
What occasion there was to be dod derned about it is a thing which is still as much of a mystery to me now as it was then.