"
"Tony Lamarche," drawled a Virginian, "you don't know what you're
talking about. You haven't e'er a slave to your name; and you don't own
a foot of the Territory. As for your hide, it wouldn't make a drumhead
nohow. So what are you dancin' about?"
"If I got no land, I got some of dose rights of a citizen, eh?" snorted
Antoine, planting himself in front of the Virginian, and bending forward
until they almost touched noses.
"I reckon you have, and I reckon you better use them. You git your
family over on to the bluff before your house is sucked into the Okaw."
"And go and hoe the weeds out of your maize patch, Antoine," exhorted
Father Baby, setting an empty glass back on the bar. "I cleaned part of
them out for you myself, with the rain streaming down my back, thinking
only of your breadless children. And what do I find when I come home to
my shop but that Antoine Lamarche has been in and carried off six
dog-leg twists of tobacco on credit! I say nothing about it. I am a
childless old friar; but I have never seen children eat tobacco.
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