human
Now the red pestilence strike him, said the man.
gpt
He has again escaped me. But an I give him not the death of a fat buck ere many days are over his head, may my bow-string be the halter that hangs me.
human
Nay, comrade, said a second forester, at that moment coming forward,
gpt
he continued,
human
May the fiend take me then!
gpt
Nay, thou art most likely the property of St. Nicholas methinks. Whatsoever thou dost, said the other,