You just get your things on and start right away." "You'd better hurry; too," put in Mr.Ford.

"There's a storm comin' 'fore long, an' we got t' git across th' river 'fore hit strikes.

I'll be here with th' horses by the time you get your bonnets on." He hurried away to the barn for his team, while the women with Sammy's assistance made their simple preparation.
As mother Ford climbed into the big wagon, she said to Sammy, "Hit's an awful lonely ol' trip fer you, child; an' you must start right away, so's t' be sure t' get there 'fore hit gets plumb dark," while Mr.Ford added, as he started the team, "Your pony's ready saddled, an' if you'll hurry along, you can jest 'bout make hit.

Don't get catched on Jakey in a big rain whatever you do." "Don't you worry about me," returned the girl, "Brownie and I could find the way in the dark." But when her friends were gone, Sammy, womanlike, busied herself with setting the disordered house aright before she started on her journey.

Watching the clouds, she told herself that there was plenty of time for her to reach the Postoffice before the storm.
It might not come that way at all, in fact.
But the way up Jake Creek was wild and rough, and along the faint trail, that twisted and wound like a slim serpent through the lonely wilderness, Brownie could make but slow time.