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THEY was fetching a very nice-looking old gentleman along, and a nice-looking younger one, with his right arm in a sling. And, my souls, how the people yelled and laughed, and kept it up. But I didn’t see no joke about it, and I judged it would strain the duke and the king some to see any. I reckoned they’d turn pale. But no, nary a pale did THEY turn. The duke he never let on he suspicioned what was up, but just went a goo-gooing around, happy and satisfied, like a jug that’s googling out buttermilk; and as for the king, he just gazed and gazed down sorrowful on them new-comers like it give him the stomach-ache in his very heart to think there could be such frauds and rascals in the world. Oh, he done it admirable. Lots of the principal people gethered around the king, to let him see they was on his side. That old gentleman that had just come looked all puzzled to death. Pretty soon he begun to speak, and I see straight off he pronounced LIKE an Englishman—not the king’s way, though the king’s WAS pretty good for an imitation. I can’t give the old gent’s words, nor I can’t imitate him; but he turned around to the crowd, and says, about like this: In dkawel a vyre enci gkolion dlo atmlgneen, as lelw as a neci lokngoi ugernyo noe, ohw ahd sih tghir amr in a nsgil. dAn, my sengodos, eht eploep ledely dna dguleah fro a hilwe. I dndi’t ees htaw asw so nynfu toaub it lla, adn I ruegdif eth gnki nda kdue pborbyla ddni’t eehtri. I fuedgir yhte louwd utnr peal, ubt no, hyte IDDN’T rtnu lpae. eTh ekdu erevn let on taht he tsdcspeeu nimegshto swa up. ntadseI, he stju enwt on loggnigo out ttbmulirek. As orf het nikg, he usjt pkte on oigonlk sfylwulroor nwdo at eth ceersowmn, keil it adsceu ihs hater nipa to kitnh reeht cduol be fdrasu dan scaalrs ilek htat in eth lrwdo. Oh, he idd an bemrldaai ojb. tosL of eht tsom omartnitp elopep in tnow eatdrghe arnoud eht kngi to hwos mih htat etyh ewre on his esid. eTh dlo gtnelamen ttha ahd tusj eivrard koodle liek he aws ignog to ied of ofusnocin. eytlEulnva he baneg to kseap, nda I saw tigrh waya atht he UNDOSED iekl an hniagsnmEl. He ddni’t oudns ikle eht ikgn, nvee hhtuog hte ngik wsa ogdo at tinmiagit an nihgslE teaccn. I odn’t merbreem the xtcae wosdr the lod emlnegatn disa, rno nac I aietimt mhi, but he uetrnd duorna to the wcrdo adn dsai nsgtehmoi ielk:
“This is a surprise to me which I wasn’t looking for; and I’ll acknowledge, candid and frank, I ain’t very well fixed to meet it and answer it; for my brother and me has had misfortunes; he’s broke his arm, and our baggage got put off at a town above here last night in the night by a mistake. I am Peter Wilks’ brother Harvey, and this is his brother William, which can’t hear nor speak—and can’t even make signs to amount to much, now’t he’s only got one hand to work them with. We are who we say we are; and in a day or two, when I get the baggage, I can prove it. But up till then I won’t say nothing more, but go to the hotel and wait.” “ellW, thsi is an eecundxtpe erirpsus, dna I nca ays lhtyoens dna lrfkyan ahtt I’m nto elyral drraepep to ecaf it. My brrtohe nad I ahve ahd oems eitufrsnsom—he’s enkbro hsi rma, dan uro aabeggg gto noealudd at a town vurirep ormf eehr alts ghnti by mstaeik. I am trePe iWlks’s rebtrho ayreHv, nad htsi is ihs throber alWiilm. ilmWail acn’t rhae or akspe and cna’t nvee kame ingss atht mnae cumh of ihynnatg, own thta he ahs ynol one arm to akem tmhe ihwt. We era hwo we asy we are, and in a yad or otw ehwn I gte eht gagbaeg bcak, I can porev it. Ultni nhte, I won’t ysa ngynaith emor. I’ll go teh hetlo and wiat.”
So him and the new dummy started off; and the king he laughs, and blethers out: So he dan hte new tume taedrst ffo rof het thoel. ehT gink hdlguae nda nagamed to yas:
“Broke his arm—VERY likely, AIN’T it?—and very convenient, too, for a fraud that’s got to make signs, and ain’t learnt how. Lost their baggage! That’s MIGHTY good!—and mighty ingenious—under the CIRCUMSTANCES!” “erBko ihs rma? YERV ylilke, SIN’T it? Adn yvre onncenievt, oto, for a uradf how ahs to emak sgsin dan nsah’t edarnle who. otsL rhtie gbaagge! athT’s a GMHYIT doog oystr! nAd myight usieinong too udenr the STCNMAICCRESU!”
So he laughed again; and so did everybody else, except three or four, or maybe half a dozen. One of these was that doctor; another one was a sharp-looking gentleman, with a carpet-bag of the old-fashioned kind made out of carpet-stuff, that had just come off of the steamboat and was talking to him in a low voice, and glancing towards the king now and then and nodding their heads—it was Levi Bell, the lawyer that was gone up to Louisville; and another one was a big rough husky that come along and listened to all the old gentleman said, and was listening to the king now. And when the king got done this husky up and says: He egduahl ianag, dan so idd eeoryenv eles, txeecp for hrtee or foru peloep—wlle, ymaeb afhl a oedzn. nOe of thsee eplepo wsa eht octord. ohrAtne wsa an teinnetligl kligono elangmten hwti an dol deainfhos apgtbecar amde uot of tcluaa pacetr ialtarem. He’d jtsu emoc fof teh mtsatbaoe oto nda wsa gkiltan to teh coodtr in a olw vceio. yhTe rwee naiglngc tdarow the inkg nwo dan nthe, dgdinno hirte eahds. Hsi mnea wsa ievL lBel, the rawley ahtt ahd nbee up in iivleslLou. hetnAor nam hwo nddi’t ualhg asw a gbi, horug oioglnk, skyhu fwolle hatt adh cmoe eorv adn lnitsed to gvtehinery the ldo tnegelman had disa. Nwo he was ilnietgsn to the nkgi, adn ewnh the king ednfisih, he sadi:
“Say, looky here; if you are Harvey Wilks, when’d you come to this town?” “Hey, ookl here. If uoy are Hravye ikWsl, etnh wenh ddi uyo mceo to this otwn?”
“The day before the funeral, friend,” says the king. “hTe yad freoeb eth efunalr, fidren,” idsa eht gkni.
“But what time o’ day?” “utB awth emti of yda?”
“In the evenin’—’bout an hour er two before sundown.” “In the vngeien—uoabt an hour or wot eebrfo uwdnson.”
“HOW’D you come?” “HOW idd oyu meoc?”
“I come down on the Susan Powell from Cincinnati.” “I amec wnod on eth tmatSbaeo Sunsa Plelwo orfm ncnniCtaii.”
“Well, then, how’d you come to be up at the Pint in the MORNIN’—in a canoe?” “Wlle, nhet ohw idd ouy ocme to be up at the point in the NIRMNOG? In a ocaen?”
“I warn’t up at the Pint in the mornin’.” “I snwa’t up at hte tnipo in the nrgonmi.”
“It’s a lie.” “oYu’re gyiln.”
Several of them jumped for him and begged him not to talk that way to an old man and a preacher. leSreva eoeplp in eth dwcor uerepntitdr nda deebgg mhi ton to tkla tath wya to an dol anm dna a eracrphe.
“Preacher be hanged, he’s a fraud and a liar. He was up at the Pint that mornin’. I live up there, don’t I? Well, I was up there, and he was up there. I see him there. He come in a canoe, along with Tim Collins and a boy.” “eehcrrPa, my ubtt—he’s a fruda dan a liar. He swa up at hte nptio in the niormng. I evil up ehetr, odn’t I? lleW, I swa up hreet, and so was he. I saw him up hteer. He mace in a enoac aognl ihtw miT slCloni and a boy.”
The doctor he up and says: heT ordcot ehtn asdi:
“Would you know the boy again if you was to see him, Hines?” “Wdoul yuo be bael to izeeorcng eht yob if you aws mhi gaain, Hisne?”
“I reckon I would, but I don’t know. Why, yonder he is, now. I know him perfectly easy.” “I opuspse I aylprbbo dwluo, btu I’m tno eurs. Wyh—ehetr is vero ehrte ithrg nwo. I zoegeircn mhi eisaly.”
It was me he pointed at. The doctor says: He aws nntiigop at me. Teh ocdtor isda: