“Quong fuss wake. No Injun came all ’long. Quong been make fire all light fo’ bleakfass.”
“I tell you they came,” cried Esau, angrily. “Look here at my cheek. It’s cut, and bleeds. That was one of their knives.”
“That was my knuckles, my lad,” said Gunson, “after you had hit me with this cudgel.”
“What?” cried Esau.
“Why, Esau, you were dreaming of Indians, and got up. You stamped on me.”
“Oh, come, if you won’t believe it’s of no use for me to talk,” cried Esau, angrily.
“Not a bit, so lie down again and go to sleep.”
“Yes; allee go seep,” said the little Chinaman. “No Injun. Allee seep.”
“Take away that branch, or you’ll set this tree on fire,” said Gunson. “Then it’s a false alarm. Too much supper, I suppose.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” said Esau, surlily.