“Now, Sneak, a word with you,” said Boone. “I think you would do almost any thing for my sake—”
“If I wouldn’t, I wish I may be dod—”
“Stop!” continued Boone, interrupting him.
“Jest ax me to cut off my little finger,” said Sneak, “and if I don’t do it, I wish I may be dod—”
“Stop!” again interposed Boone. “My first request is one that poor Mary asked me to make. I know it will be a severe trial.”
“Name it,” cried Sneak, “and if it’s to job out one of my eyes, dod rot me if I don’t do it!”
“Hear me,” continued Boone; “she desired me to ask you not to use that ugly word dod-rot any more.”
“Hay!” exclaimed Sneak, his eyes dilating, and his mouth falling wide open.
“I know it will be a hard matter,” said Boone; “but Mary thinks you have a good and brave heart, and she says you are the only one among us that uses bad words.”
“I’d go my death for that gal, or any other female woman in the settlement, any day of my life. And as she wants me to swaller them words, that was born with me, dod—I mean, I wish I may be—indeed, I’ll be starved to death if I don’t do it! only when I’m raven mad at something, and then I can’t help it.”