human
Stranger, thar mought be better cooks than my Sairy Ann whar you hail from up yon in New Yorrok; but, I swow, thar hain't another saw-mill in West Virginny as can ekal the cookin' in my camp! Wait till Sairy Ann br'ils these mountain trout and slaps 'em on to a pone of sweet corn bread. See?
gpt
Yes, I see--in imagination--and my mouth waters! Let us go back to the mill at once, Peters, and realize our anticipations. Hal-loo! what is that--over on that bank, man?
human
Gee-whillikins! what, indeed?