Ole Tom kep'
a-whisperin': ``Thar hain't no coal--
no nothing; ole Tom Perkins made me
tell t'other furriner them lies.''
Well, sir, the feller WAS mad. ``Jes
whut I tol' that fool podner of mine,''
he says, an' he pull out a dollar an' gives
hit to Tom. Tom jes sticks out his
han' with his thum' turned in jes so,
an' the furriner says, ``Well, ef you can't
talk, you kin make purty damn good
signs''; but he forks over four mo' dollars
(he 'lowed ole Tom had saved him a
pile o' money), an' turns his hoss an'
pulls up agin. He was a-gittin' the land
so durned cheap that I reckon he jes
hated to let hit go, an' he says, says he:
``Well, hain't the groun' rich? Won't hit
raise no tabaccy nur corn nur nothin'?''
Ole Tom jes whispers:
``To tell you the p'int-blank truth,
stranger, that land's so durned pore that
I hain't nuver been able to raise my
voice.''
Now, brother, I'm a separATE man,
an' I don't inQUIZite into no man's business--
but you ax me straight an' I tell
ye straight. Ole Tom Perkins kin trade
with furriners, fer he have l'arned their
ways.
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