THEY WERE JUST ABOUT TO PROCEED WHEN THREE INDIANS RODE UP.
"Ugh! Give Indian tobacco," said one.
"Give Indian sugar," said a second.
"Blue Water cold—give um blanket," came from the third.
"I haven't any tobacco to spare," said Maybe Dixon, who carried only a small pouchful.
"The sugar is about gone," added Si.
"We need our blankets," put in Mark. "Where are your own?"
The Indians looked disappointed and their painted faces grew dark.
"No give poor Indians nothing?" asked the fellow who had first spoken.