He took it for a sinker to his lines, for Indian Jake telled him a piece of gold would cotch the grit fish.

And a grit fish has cotched it.

Abe's bin divn' and divn' and can't find it nohow.

He reckons it's plumb Ain't he a bad 'un, Mammy Linkhorn ?" It was some time before the dying woman understood.

Then she began feebly to cry.