“No—don’t hurt—only kill musketer,” replied the savage, laughing heartily, and striking his prisoner on the other side of the face.
“Oh! hang your skin!” cried Joe, endeavouring to break away, “if ever I get you in my power, I’ll smash—” Here his sudden courage evaporated, and again the tears filled his eyes.
“Poor fellow!” said the savage, patting his victim on the head. “How much you give for him?” he continued, pointing to Sneak.
“If you’ll only let me go, I’ll give you every thing I’ve got in the world. He don’t want to live as bad as I do, and I’ll give you as much for me alone as I will for both.”
“You’re a purty white man, now, ain’t you?” said Sneak. “But its all the same. My chance is jest as good as your’n. They’re only fooling you, jest to laugh. I’ve made up my mind to die, and I ain’t a going to make any fun for ’em. And you might as well say your prayers fust as last; they’re only playing with you now like a cat with a mice.”
The old Indian moved towards Sneak, followed by the others.
“How much you give?” asked the savage.
“Not a coon’s tail,” replied Sneak, with firmness.
“Now how much?” continued the Indian, slapping the thin lank cheek of his prisoner.
“Not a dod-rotted cent! Now jest take your tomahawk and split my skull open as quick as you kin!” said Sneak; and he bowed down his head to receive the fatal blow.