Pap dug the nineteenth buckshot out of my shoulder and said, «Pigs is more disturbin' to the peace of a community than scandal, divorce, and corn licker put together. And,» says pap, pausing to strop his bowie on my scalp where the hair was all burnt off, «when the pig is a razorback hawg, and is mixed up with a lady schoolteacher, a English tenderfoot, and a passle of bloodthirsty relatives, the result is appallin' for a peaceable man to behold. Hold still till John gits yore ear sewed back on.»
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