"Any time afore noon will does, so Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock gits de fish for our dinner."
"One, two hours," said the Huron, looking up at the sky, "den sun git dere," pointing to the zenith. "Shawnees know here?"
"Know me here? Guesses not; don't care if dey does, nor dey doesn't care neider."
"Shawnees won't come here?"
"No, no, Oonomoo, you needn't be afraid—"
"Afraid who?" demanded the Huron, with quick fierceness. "Oonomoo never run afore one—two—t'ree—dozen Shawnees. He only runs when dey comes like de leaves in de woods."
"Dey won't come like de leaves. If dey does, why you can leave too, and I t'inks you know how to use dem legs dat you've got tacked onto you. I t'inks you run as fast as me."
"So I t'inks," replied the Indian, with a grin.
"Dere's no mistake but dem Shawnees would like to get your scalp, Oonomoo."
"Two—t'ree—hundreds—all Shawnees like to git Oonomoo's scalp—nebber git him—Oonomee die in his lodge—scalp on his head," said the Huron, proudly.