THE BOY-HUNTER. 53 



" You Sancli ! you Snap ! get out, you dogs ! get out ! 

 begone !" I shriek, but it is too late now to save poor molly- 

 cotton from being torn. 



" Hoo-ey ! dat my Snap ! yah ! yah !" 



" You nigger, dat Sanch, fust ! Mass Charles dat Sanch ? 

 yah ! yah ! dis nigger's dog ! Iloo-ray ! hoo-ray !" 



