human
Ru--Ru--oh, _man_, how he scooned off!
gpt
Ay, said Reuben, shaken and panting and full of pride.
human
I allow, Mr. Cory, he might travel some little time, Mr. Cory. The tremor was overcome by the swift joyous action of running down the slope to bring back the remains of the turkey.
gpt
See, Ben--he's left us both legs and some of the back and breast.
human
Poor puss! My own little brother, a man who'd steal from a----
gpt
Snow down your backside!
human
Ru--help me up! Before Reuben could do so, Ben was on his feet without help, denying his own words:
gpt
It's nothing, Ru--I got a little dizzy, nothing more.
human
Ben, if you----
gpt
We can't go back.... Hoy, here's a thought! All that turkey blood on the snow--couldn't we make it seem----
human
Law you! Reuben yelped and war-danced. Ben could not be ill, he thought, so long as he was able to produce such a dazzling conception.
gpt
Ben, a marvelous bloody swindle--why, damme, they'll mumble it in chimney comers till the Devil's blind, and his eyes a'n't sore yet. Think of it!--those poor lost boys!
human
Small red gobbets.
gpt
What?
human
Hast thou forgotten? Thine own tales----
gpt
Oh, that. Nay then, behold how bravely they did stand before the beast--alas, all for nothing, though Benjamin Cory with his good right arm did--did make varsall sure to pick up the turkey feathers.
human
It'll never deceive a woodsman.
gpt
Oh, Ben, they'll be townfolks that find it. Superstitious too. If our own trail ends here, what can they think? We must go under the trees, where--where _he_ went.
human
Oh, him! Ben recovered, laughing again not quite naturally.
gpt
He's na' but a spent fart, Ru. He'll travel as you said, and then I picture him climbing a tree to grieve all day tomorrow about what my little brother did to him. 'Snowballs!' he'll say. '_Me_, to be whopped by a snowball--why, bugger me blind, and all the time it was that Reuben Cory no bigger'n a boar's tit!'
human
You're no Goliar neither, in fact I could whup you handy with my arse tied under my chin. Now drag me, Ben, from here to the trees, along that line where he ran. That'll make a fine confusion and wipe out your own tracks. Then we'll follow his marks under the trees and smear our own till they can't tell which from nohow.
gpt
That's the thing. What a catamount was he! Know what he did? Laid us out like a pair of sticks, he did, your ankle crossed on mine, took both feet in his mouth, poor wretch, and for his sins went a-blundering through the woods with a boy dangling on each side.
human
I tell you, Ben, the superstitious will believe madder things than that. La, some of the tales Jesse used to tell!
gpt
Ben doubled over, laughing far too much.
human
Why, of course--by the time the tale is carried back to Springfield he won't be a catamount at all. He'll be taller'n a house, the Old Nick himself with a passel of demons. It'll be a--a----
gpt
It will be a judgment of the Lord.