ou've jest told
me,' I says, 'that you're goin' to foreclose an' I cal'late to protect
myself, an' I _don't_ cal'late,' I says, 'to have to go an' bid on that
prop'ty, an' put in a lot more money to save my investment, unless I'm
'bleeged to--not _much_! an' you can jest sign that morgidge over to me,
an' the sooner the quicker,' I says."

David brought his hand down on his thigh with a vigorous slap, the
fellow of the one which, John could imagine, had emphasized his demand
upon Swinney. The story, to which he had at first listened with polite
patience merely, he had found more interesting as it went on, and,
excusing himself, he brought up a stool, and mounting it, said, "And
what did Swinney say to that?" Mr. Harum emitted a gurgling chuckle,
yawned his quid out of his mouth, tossing it over his shoulder in the
general direction of the waste basket, and bit off the end of a cigar
which he found by slapping his waistcoat pockets. John got down and
fetched him a match, which he scratched in the vicinity of his hip
pocket, lighted his cigar (John declining to join him on some plausible
pretext, having on a previous occasion accepted one of the brand), and
after rolling it around with his lips and tongue to the effect that the
lighted end described sundry eccentric curves, located it firmly with an
upward angle in the left-hand corner of his mouth, gave it a couple of
vigorous puffs, and replied to John's question.

"Wa'al, 'Zeke Swinney was a perfesser of religion some years ago, an'
mebbe he is now, but what he said to me on this pertic'ler occasion was
that he'd see me in hell fust, an' _then_ he wouldn't.

"'Wa'al,' I says, 'mebbe you won't, mebbe you will, it's alwus a
pleasure to meet ye,' I says, 'but in that case this morgidge bus'nis
'll be a question fer our executors,' I says, 'fer _you_ don't never
foreclose that morgidge, an' don't you fergit it,' I says.

"'Oh, you'd like to git holt o' that prop'ty yourself. I see what you're
up to,' he says.

"'Look a-here, 'Zeke Swinney,' I says, 'I've got an int'rist in that
prop'ty, an' I propose to p'tect it. You're goin' to sign that morgidge
over to me, or I'll foreclose and surrygate ye,' I says, 'unless you
allow to bid in the prop'ty, in which case we'll see whose weasel-skin's
the longest. But I guess it won't come to that,' I says. 'You kin take
your choice,' I says. 'Whether I want to git holt o' that prop'ty myself
ain't neither here nor there. Mebbe I d