“Do you think, Mr. Shagbark, dey’s gwine to pitch into us?”
“That’s what Injins seem built for; ye can feel powerful sartin that if we give ’em the chance they’ll grab it.”
“Yas, sir,” replied the youth, as he gingerly followed the guide to the wagon where he had placed Alden Payne a short time before; “I wish I felt better.”
Shagbark stopped abruptly and turned upon him.
“What’s the matter with ye?”
“De fac’ is, Mr. Shagbark, I doan’ feel very well dis ebening: I hain’t felt well all day,—sorter ob a big pain in my innards.”
He leaned over, pressing his hand against his side and groaning.
“I observed that ye eat as much as me and young Payne together; don’t seem to affect yer appetite any.”
“Dat’s de way it allers takes me; sometimes I kin stop de pain—Oh! oh!—by swallering all de food I kin git hold of.”
“Ye won’t think anything about yer pain, when ye see a big Ingin stealing up out of the grass and making ready to skulp ye; come on.”