Beadle's Dime Novels No. 305: The Girl Scout — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

20 THE GIRL TRAILER. hyar is the identickle little cuss, How ar’ you, Jennie; yer welcome as the flowers in May.” “T thought so, uncle Jesse,” replied the girl. “ But are you not giving me a strange introduction to this gentleman ?” “This hyar is Walter Burton, and he’s a chicken, ef ever there was one in the created world. Why, he throwed that mean cuss, Gaston F'oix, so quick that—but I forgot he was yer cousin.” “Father,” said Maud, quickly, “ Mr. Foix has just done me a service and I wish you'd speak more kindly of him.” “] seed it all,’ said Jess, “ but it won’t* work on me. Why, gal, I had my rifle up to my shoulder, and ef Buck Bracer had hit ye, he’d ’a’ bin the deadest man you ever saw in about half a minnit. Don’t you have nothing to say to Gast Foix. Wallace, this is my gal, Maud, Didn’t I tell ye the truth ?” : “More than the truth, Mr. Turner,” replied Wallace, shak- ing hands with Maud and giving her a look of honest ad- miration from his big brown eyes, ‘I am glad that I bap- pened to meet you and take up my quarters with you.” “Let’s go into the house. While Wallace and me have a talk, gal, see ef ye kain’t raise suthing in the shape of grub, I want a bite dreadful bad. Who hez see’d any thing of Rod Phelps lately ?” “ What do you want of him, uncle ?” asked Jennie. “T want him to ran out some land for Mister Burton, He’s the only surveyor worth his salt about hyar, and—” “Now Petiar Gray went trading West, For furs and other skins ; When he was shot. sealped and bur-ri-ed— By the blood di In-ji-ins !"’ A. manly tenor voice trolled out this mournful ballad, a swinging step stirred up the forest leaves, and a young fel- low broke out of the thicket close at hand, his rifle on his back and a well-filled game-bag swinging beside it. _ “ Hip, hip, hip!” roared Old Jess, “ Ef thar ain’t the very critter we want.” ‘“ Come into the house, quick!’ cried Jennie. “I don’t want to see him.” “Lost, strayed or stolen,” chanted the new comer, singing» the words through his nose; “a small boy of the name o Ccommicloooks. conn