“Wal, wal! This sounds like!—Wife! wife!” called Peternot, “hand out my gre’t-cut! May be cool ridin’.—In your hands? The best news yit! It’s comin’ out right, arter all! But, as you say, we must ketch Sellick ’fore he gits to the jail; the case ’ll haf to go before the gran’ jury, if we don’t.—Wife! wife! can’t ye step quick for once?”