“I’ve killed many a deer in a minit—it don’t hurt a man to die more than a deer. I wish the snarvilorous copper-skinned rascals would git through quick!” said Sneak.
“Me try you agin,” said the savage, again going to Sneak.
“Well, now, what’re you a going to do? I’m not afraid of you!” said Sneak, grinding his teeth.
“Me rub your head,” said the savage, seizing a tuft of hair and tearing it out.
“Take some more,” said Sneak, bowing down his head.
“A little more,” iterated the savage, grasping a handful, which, with much exertion, he severed from the head, and left the white skin exposed to view.
“Won’t you have some more?” continued Sneak, without evincing the least pain. “Jest take as much as you please; if you tear it off till my head’s as bald as an egg, I won’t beg you to let me alone.”
“You brave fellow—won’t pull your hair any more,” said the chief.
“You be dod rot!” said Sneak, contemptuously.
“You mighty brave, shake hands!” continued the laughing savage, holding his hand out in mockery.