"Horrible!" I returned.
"He got it out of the book, you know," she went on, "but I put in the part about the buckets--a bucket holds such an awful lot, don't you think? But there's some more on the other page." Obediently I turned, and read:
"'ere another moon, scalps shall dangel at belt of Spotted Snaik, for in his futsteps lurks distruksion. But fear not pail-face, thou art my brother--fairwell.
"Sined
"SPOTTED SNAIK."
"There was lots more, but we couldn't get it in," said Dorothy. Squeezed up into a corner I found this postscript;
"If you will come and be an Indian Cheef unkel dick, I will make you a spear, and you can be Fanged Wolf. He was a fine chap and nobody could beat him except Spotted Snaik, will you Unkel dick?"
"He wants you to write an answer, and I'm to take it to him," said Dorothy.
"Fanged Wolf!" I repeated; "no, I'm afraid not. I shouldn't object so much to becoming a red-skin--for a time--but Fanged Wolf! Really, Dorothy, I'm afraid I couldn't manage that."
"He was very brave," returned Dorothy, "and awfull' strong, and could--could 'throw his lance with such unerring aim as to pin his foe to the nearest tree--in the twinkle of an eye.' That's in the book, you know."