As I sat thus I was joined by Mandy McGovern, who pulled out her
contemplative pipe. "Did you see my boy, Andy Jackson?" she asked. "He
went acrost with the first bunch--nary stitch of clothes on to him. He
ain't much thicker'n a straw, but say--he was a-rastlin' them mules and
a-swearin' like a full-growed man! I certainly have got hopes that boy's
goin' to come out all right. Say, I heerd him tell the cook this mornin'
he wasn't goin' to take no more sass off n him. I has hopes--I certainly
has hopes, that Andrew Jackson '11 kill a man some time yit; and like
enough it'll be right soon."
I gave my assent to this amiable hope, and presently Mandy went on.
"But say, man, you and me has got to get that girl acrost somehow,
between us. You know her and me--and sometimes that Englishman--travels
along in the amberlanch. She's allowed to me quiet that when the time
come for her to go acrost, she'd ruther you and me went along. She's all
ready now, if you air."
"Very good," said I, "we'll go now--they've got a fire there, and are
cooking, I suppose."
Mandy left me, and I went for my own horse. Presently we three, all
mounted, met at the bank. Taking the girl between us, Mandy and I
started, and the three horses plunged down the bank.
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