Yet she was brave and
quiet, and said little.
But father grew tired of being dogged, and told us that he was going
to Lawrence. He was gone some time and we did not know where he was.
My little four year old brother George heard much talk of Border
Ruffians, and he went around flourishing a long thorn for a dagger,
and boasting in childish accent: "Bad Border 'uffians s'an't get my pa.
I hit 'em in 'e eye wid my dagger." One day I was helping uncle drop
corn, when George came running to us, much excited. "I foun' a Border
'uffian! I foun' a Border 'uffian! I hit 'em in 'e eye! I hit 'em in
'e eye!" We ran to see what he had found, and he ran ahead, picking
up pebbles as he ran, "to fro at 'e bad Border 'uffian." What do you
think he had found? A mud turtle! And that was his idea of a Border
Ruffian. But he had a chance to see one. One day, while father was
away, two men rode up to the house, whom we knew to be Border Ruffians
by their red shirts and the revolvers in their belts.
Pages:
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396