human
Sorry to disturb you, friend, he said;
gpt
Beggars, I reckon, have no right to be choosers, returned the settler;
human
I'll tell you what it is, old cock, continued the Aid-de-Camp, edging his seat closer, and giving his host a smart friendly slap upon the thigh,
gpt
Crossed in hell, returned the settler, savagely.
human
I reckon as how it don't consarn you whether I look sour or sweet--what you want is a night's lodgin', and you've got it, so don't trouble me no more.
gpt
Very sorry, but I shall, said Jackson, secretly congratulating himself that, now he had got the tongue of his host in motion, he had a fair chance of keeping it so.
human
I must trouble you for some bread, and whatever else your larder may afford. I'll pay you honestly for it, friend.
gpt
I should guess, said the settler, his stern features brightening for the first time into a smile of irony,
human
What, not even a bit of corn bread! Try, my old cock, and rummage up a crust or two, for hung beef is devilish tight work for the teeth, without a little bread of some sort for a relish.
gpt
If you'd ha' used your eyes you'd ha' seen nothin' like a corn patch for twenty mile round about this. Bread never entered this hut since I been here. I don't eat it.
human
I HAVE no friends--I WISH to have no friends,
gpt
More's the pity still, pursued the Aid-de-Camp,
human
Human flesh. Take that as a relish to your hung beef.