“Look where they pulled mine out,” said Sneak, turning that part of his head in view which had been made literally bald.
“Didn’t it hurt you?” asked Joe.
“Sartinly it did,” said Sneak, “but I grinned and bore it. And now I wish they’d pull it all off, and then my scalp wouldn’t do ’em any good.”
“That’s a fact,” said Joe. “Here, Mr. Osage,” he continued, “pull as much hair off the top of my head as you want.” The savages, instead of paying any attention to him, seemed to be attracted by some distant sound. They stooped down and placed their ears near the earth, and listened intently for some time. At length they sprang up, and then ensued another dispute among them about the manner in which the prisoners should be disposed of. The old savage was yet in favour of tomahawking the captives and retreating without delay. But the others would not consent to it. They were not satisfied with the small amount of suffering yet endured by the prisoners. They were resolved to glut their savage vengeance. And the prisoners now observed that all traces of mirth had vanished from their faces. Their eyes gleamed with fiendish fury, and drawing forth their glittering tomahawks, they vanished in the thicket, and were soon heard chopping off the small boughs of the trees.
“What are they doing Sneak?” asked Joe.
“Don’t you know what they’re doing? ain’t they cutting wood as fast as they kin?” replied Sneak.
“Well, I’m not sorry for that.” said Joe. “because its almost dark, and I’m getting chilly. If they’d only give me something to eat, I’d feel a heap more comfortable.”
“You varasherous fool you, they’re cutting wood to burn us up with. Oh, I wish I was loose!”
“Oh, goodness gracious!” cried Joe, “I never thought of that! Oh, I’m gone!”
“Are you?” cried Sneak, eagerly; “I’d like to be off too, and we’d give them a race for it yit.”