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"An' when'll that be, Harry?" "Pa," said Billy, "would you mind comin' to the woodshed an' lookin' over my open water decoys. I've been restringin' 'em, an' weightin' the canvasbacks an' redheads, an' givin' the bluebills a fresh coat o' paint. I'd like to know what you think of my job." "I'll be movin' now," he said, as he wiped his mouth on a tattered sleeve. "God kape you safe, Caleb Spencer, an' may yer whisky-barrel niver run dhry.".
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Conrad
Billy wanted to laugh, but he was too good a ring-general to give way to his feelings. Instead, he shifted his feet again, thereby getting within reaching distance of the one so anxious for battle. "By the sound of their wings, of course," laughed the man. "There," as a small duck flashed past the blind, "that's a green-winged teal, and he's flying at the rate of about ninety miles an hour." "That's Elgin Scraff and Tom Holt comin' to look fer us," cried Maurice. "Have you seen him?" she shouted. "What you think of him, Maurice?".
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