“A word in your ear,” he whispered, impressively. “When they return to us—as they shortly will—and conduct us to a place where there is a fire, as is probable, contrive to knock off Oneota’s Antelope head, as you promised to do. You understand?”
“Oh, yes; I’m fly! If she turns out to be the White Angel—”
“Why then, Smoholler is my father!”
“Jumping Jerusalem! you don’t mean it?”
“I do.”
“That accounts for the milk in the cocoanut.”
“Hush! I hear footsteps. See, there is the glimmering of a light.”
“It is the Antelope with a torch, and her head on, as before. But I’ll behead her. Just you wait.”
“But don’t hurt her.”
“Oh, no; I’ll decapitate her in the gentlest manner possible.”