The chief snapped the fingers of both hands and turned to talk with his remaining braves.
"Mistah Sam! Mistah Sam!" whispered Ike.
"What is it, Ike?"
"W'at you tink now?"
"About what?"
"'Bout de sitooation?"
"I don't know," said Sam gloomily.
"Tink we's in a bad box?"
"If we are we must bear it."
"Jest so; but somehow I'd like a change to good luck, jest to see how it feels like. 'Peers to me ez if we was nebber to hab no good times no more," and Ike rolled his eyes and sighed at a great rate.