"We have been successful in capturing a few of our hated foes, and they are bound and helpless near at hand. Shall they be fricasseed, broiled, fried, or made into a potpie? That is the question before the meeting, and I am ready to listen to others. Let us hear from Squint-eyed Sausageface."
"It doesn't make a dit of bifference—I mean a bit of difference to me how I have my paleface cooked," said the one indicated as Squint-eyed Sausageface. "Perhaps it would be well enough to cook them at the stake."
"I think that would be the proper mode," gravely declared another warrior; "for I have heard that they boast they are hot stuff. They should not boast in vain."
"Warriors," said Hole-in-his-Face, "you have heard. What have you to say?"
"So mote it be," came solemnly from one.
"Yah! yah! yah!" yelled the others.
"That settles it, as the sugar remarked to the egg dropped into the coffee. Prepare the torture stakes."
There was a great bustle, and in a short time the stakes were prepared and driven into the ground, one of the savages hammering them down with a huge stick of wood.
Then the captives were bound to the stakes and a lot of brush was brought and piled about their feet.
Some of the sophs actually looked scared, but Browning kept up a continual fire of sarcastic remarks.