“No, nor ducking nother,” replied he, sarcastically.
“Plague it, Sneak,” said Joe, deprecatingly, “never mind that affair; you were mistaken about my being frightened. The next chance I get I’ll let you see that I’m not afraid of any thing.”
“Well, I want you to go with me on a spree this morning that’ll try you.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Joe, with some curiosity in his looks.
“I’m going a snaking,” said Sneak.
At this juncture the dialogue was arrested by the appearance of Glenn, whose brow was somewhat paler than usual, and wore an absent and thoughtful cast; yet his abstract meditations did not seem altogether of a painful nature.
“Joe,” said he, “I want you to exercise the horses more in the prairie. They are getting too fat and lazy. If they cannot be got on the boat when we leave here, we will have to send them by land to St. Louis.”
“Dod—you ain’t a going to leave us?” cried Sneak.
“Well, I thought something was in the wind,” said Joe, pondering, “but it’ll break Miss Mary’s—”
“Pshaw!” replied Glenn, quickly interrupting him; “you don’t know what you are talking about.”