BLOAT. Old Sledge be darned! I had jest clar'd him out o' continentals—fifty to the shillin'—at his own game, when in ript Roudi—the Eyetalian that knifed the Muskoe Injun for peekin' through his bar-room winder last spring—jest down from Fort Knox. You know the chap, General; you was on his jury.
SLAUGH. I reckon I dew. The Court was agin him, but we acquitted him afore the Chief-Justice finished his charge, and gave him a vote o' thanks to boot. There's a heap o' furriners creepin' inter these parts—poor downtrodden cusses from Europe—end, ef they're all like Roudi, they'll dew—a'most as hendy wi' the knife as our own people. But what's up?
BLOAT. Roudi saw Barron at Fort Knox, restin' thar on his way back from the Prophet's Town, end he sez thet red assassin Tecumseh's a-cumin' down wi' four hundred o' his painted devils to convarse wi' our Guvner. They're all armed, he sez, end will be here afore mid- day.
SLAUGH. Wall! our Guvner notified him to come—he's only gettin' what he axed for. There'll be a deal o' loose har flitterin' about the streets afore night, I reckon. Harrison's a heap too soft wi' them red roosters; he h'aint got cheek enough.
GERKIN. I've heerd say the Guvner, end the Chief Justice tew, thinks a sight o' this tearin' red devil. They say he's a great man. They say, tew, thet our treaty Injuns air badly used—thet they shouldn't be meddled wi' on their resarves, end should hev skoolin'.
BLOAT. Skoolin'! That gits me! Dogoned ef I wouldn't larn them jest one thing—what them regler officers up to the Fort larns their dogs—"to drap to shot," only in a different kind o' way like; end, es fer their resarves, I say, give our farmers a chance—let them locate!
TWANG. Thet's so, Major! What arthly use air they— plouterin' about their little bits o' fields, wi' their little bits o' cabins, end livin' half the time on mush- rats? I say, let them move out, end give reliable citizens a chance.
SLAUGH. Wall, I reckon our Guvner's kind's about played out. They call themselves the old stock—the clean pea —the rale gentlemen o' the Revolooshun. But, gentlemen, ain't we the Revolooshun? Jest wait till the live citizens o' these United States end Territories gits a chance, end we'll show them gentry what a free people, wi' our institooshuns, kin do. There'll be no more talk o' skoolin fer Injuns, you bet! I'd give them Kernel Crunch's billet.
GERKIN. What was thet, General?
SLAUGH. Why, they say he killed a hull family o' redskins, and stuck 'em up as scar' crows in his wheat fields. Gentlemen, there's nothin' like original idees!