Educate ush up
lot. Know mosht that poetry till I die, shee? `Wonner wash
vinters buy, halfsh precious ash sthuff shell,' shee? I got it!
Let you in on real thing. Take grand big coon skinch back to
Boston with you. Ringsh on tail. Make wife fine muff, or fur
trimmingsh. Good to till boysh at club about, shee?"
"Are you asking me to go on a coon hunt with you?" demanded the
Thread Man. "When? Where?"
"Corshally invited," answered Jimmy. "To-morrow night. Canoper.
Show you plashe. Bill Duke's dogs. My gunsh. Moonsh shinin'. Dogs
howlin'. Shnow flying! Fify coonsh rollin' out one hole! Shoot
all dead! Take your pick! Tan skin for you myself! Roaring big
firesh warm by. Bag finesh sandwiches ever tasted. Milk pail pure
gold drink. No stop, slop out going over bridge. Take jug. Big
jug. Toss her up an' let her gurgle. Dogsh bark. Fire pop. Guns
bang. Fifty coons drop. Boysh all go. Want to get more education.
Takes culture to get woolsh off. Shay, will you go? "
"I wouldn't miss it for a thousand dollars," said the Thread Man.
"But what will I say to my house for being a day late?"
"Shay gotter grip," suggested Jimmy. "Never too late to getter
grip. Will you all go, boysh?"
There were not three men in the saloon who knew of a tree that
had contained a coon that winter, but Jimmy was Jimmy, and to be
trusted for an expedition of that sort; and all of them agreed to
be at the saloon ready for the hunt at nine o'clock the next
night.
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