Beadle's Dime Novels No. 92: The Twin Scouts — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

*e A CONTUMACIOUS NEGRO. 57 “Keep off dar, you,” shouted Tiny. “EfI git to ye gin, you’s dead.” ‘The savage rushed at him. Two or three sprung to inter- pose, but they were too late. Flora gave poor Tiny up for lost, bound as he was ; but to her surprise, as the savage came with- in reach, one of his broad feet was lifted, and planted with prodigious force directly in the spot upon which the head had alighted before. Again the Indian rolled upon the sod, follow- ed by the jecrs of the negro, coupled with those of his com- - rades. e “ Tek’ him ’way,” cried Tiny. “Tck’ away de poor chile. I kin lick him wid my han’s tied *hind o’ me, bof ob ’dem. Shoo! you goose. Wha’s for you try to fight wid me. L has to larf, ebery time I t’ink how he roll ober. Now see har’, you,” said he, as the savage pr “Rp to attack him again. “TI. tell yo seein ‘ef you comes at.me ag’in, I’s goin’ to kill you. You ai y size, but you's fight wid a hatchet, and jist as live kill a feller as not. Gwar: you, wile times is good, else you’s get hurt.” _ The savage never minded the caution, but advanced careful- ly upon his enemy, taking great care to be out of the reach of his ponderous heel. Sam used to boast that it took a deer- hide to make him a pair of moccasins, and that aunt Phebe used one of his casemates fora cradle. It is not at all remarka- ble, that after a person had taken the measure of his foot, he should not care to experiment in its weight, as applied to. his person. ‘Tiny’s adversary had a wholesome dread of the pon- derous instrument, and circled round the negro, seeking to dash ~~ inyand take him off his guard. He kept turning about, as if upon 4 pivot, and haranguing the fellow all the time. - “Now, ain’t you a pretty objic, Injin? Yer nose ed nebber did see sich a nose—reach almost up to me, an’ I can’t reach you wid my heel. Takes mighty good car’, you does, to keep yer handsome pusson away from me. Some ob you fellers see fa’r. Ef I had my han’s free, I c’u’d tek’ hol’ ob yer nose an’ pull it—would, too, I bet. Why don’t yer pitch in? Don’t yer see dat you’s a-keepin’ de present cump’- ny, all dis time, a-waitin’ yer conwenience ? Hurry up. Ef you’s goin’ ter do any ting, say so. You’s a darn ole fool, an’ dar’s all dar’ is bout it. Does yer s’pose we’s a-goin’ ter Comicbooksseom ‘ ;