"You ish dat pig fool, eh, dat went to Congress and didn't know noffin. I heerds 'pout you, and dinks you de piggest fool as never vas."
This was not very complimentary to Crockett, but the good nature of Hans Bungslager was irresistible, and he laughed to see him laugh.
Katrina was somewhat embarrassed, and thought it her duty to apologize for the rudeness of her uncle.
"He doesn't mean any thing," said she, turning toward the hunter; "it's a way he has. He got some papers that told about you in Congress, and he was so pleased that he staid home two or three days, and did nothing but sit in his chair and laugh."
"He's a lucky dog to be able to laugh so much," replied Crockett, with a serious air. "I have done a good deal of laughing in my time, but I reckon I've felt like crying as many times. Howsumever, I s'pose you want to get this carcass out the room."
Katrina replied that such was her wish, and Crockett and his host laid hold and managed to drag the huge creature outside the door. He was pulled some distance away, when the hunter, taking his Bowie in his hand, ran his finger along the edge.
"Go way with yer buffalo-steaks and venison, when I can git b'ar meat," said he, as he began operating upon it. "I'm going to stay to supper with you. I s'pose you've eat b'ar-steak?"
"Oh, yaw!" replied Hans; "I eats him once."
"How did you like him?"
"A Mexican—one greaser, gif him me to p'ison me; ef I had eat but lettle I would died; but I eat so much dat I spit him up ag'in."