phasis. "He 's more 'n a dozen brave men, thet's whut he is. He's a joemightyful cuss. Ain't nuthin' he can't dew—spryer 'n a painter, stouter 'n a moose, an' treemenjous with a sword."
The moon sank low, peering through distant tree-columns, and went out of sight. Long stubs of dead pine loomed in the dim, golden afterglow, their stark limbs arching high in the heavens—like mullions in a great Gothic window.
"When we git nigh shore over yender," said my companion, "don't believe we better hev a grea' deal t' say. I ain't a-goin' t' be tuk—by a jugful—not ef I can help it. Got me 'n a tight place one night here 'n Canady."
"Ah, m'sieu', in Canada! How did you get out of it?" I queried.
"Slipped out," said he, shaking the canoe with suppressed laughter. "Jes' luk a streak o' greased lightnin'," he added presently.
"The captain he seems ver' anxious for me to mak' great hurry," I remarked.
"No wonder; it's his lady-love he 's efter—faster 'n a weasel t' see 'er," said he, snickering.
