Don't you mind my snuffling a little--becuz we're in a power of trouble.

You see, one of the boys has gone up the flume--" "Gone where ?" "Up the flume--throwed up the sponge, you understand." "Thrown up the sponge ?" "Yes--kicked the bucket--" "Ah--has departed to that mysterious country from whose bourne no traveler returns." "Return! I reckon not.

Why pard, he's dead!" "Yes, I understand." "Oh, you do?
Well I thought maybe you might be getting tangled some more.

Yes, you see he's dead again--" "Again?
Why, has he ever been dead before ?" "Dead before?
No! Do you reckon a man has got as many lives as a cat?
But you bet you he's awful dead now, poor old boy, and I wish I'd never seen this day.

I don't want no better friend than Buck Fanshaw.
I knowed him by the back; and when I know a man and like him, I freeze to him--you hear me.