“Jule ain’t goot for mooch. I can vip him so easy ash notting ever vas. I kills oct Injuns, unt he kills dree. Dat’s it.”
“I’ll eat the Injun when you kill him,” said Jules. “You’ll run from the first one you see.”
“Me run vrom an Injun. No, py der saints, I kill auvery one I see, same ash I kills de pear. You prave mans, you two. Climb oop trees, unt leave poor Dutchman all alone. Yaw; dat ish no goot.”
“See yer, Dutchy. I want you to go back to the bear and bring him in. I’m afraid the wolves will git at him ef we leave him thar. You wouldn’t have the wolves eat up your bear, would you?”
“I not got time to go pack,” said Jan. “I so hoongry, pesides I’m very tired.”
“Yer skeered. Thet’s what’s the matter with ye, Dutchy. Yer skeered half to death. Ye wouldn’t no more go back to thet b’ar then ye would fly. I ain’t quite so sure he’s dead, anyhow. Isn’t thet him comin’ down the hill yonder?”
Jan leaped up, clasped the trunk of a tree with both hands, and began to climb with might and main, while the others rolled over and over on the ground, bursting with laughter. By the time he reached the first branch he had collected sufficient fortitude to look about him, and could see no such fearful monster as he imagined coming down upon him. The truth dawned upon him that he was the victim of a sell, and he slid down again in great wrath.
“You’s the wust liar, Penn Miffin, in dis coontry. Auvery Yankee can lie goot deal, put you can lie more as dat. Dere vas no pear.”
“Wasn’t ther’? It must hev been the rock I seen and I thought it was a b’ar, sure as shootin’. But ye was skeered that time; ye kain’t say ye wa’n’t.”
“Kin, too! Wasn’t scared a bit, Penn Miffin.”