"You bad man, you beas', you go!"
And Chihuahua whitened, as he had done more than once before when Annie got mad. He went out like a lamb, and Jenny sat down on the bed, and sobbed for the first time as if her heart would break.
And the fire still burnt, but without great flames. Some of the crowd went home. It was past two o'clock and soon would be dawn.
"You no tak' my man, Jenny?" moaned Annawillee.
"No, no, no," said Jenny.
"Chihuahua him a beas' to me," said Annawillee. "I hat' heem, but I hav' no other man now and I no more a pretty klootchman. What I do if he tak' other klootchman?"
"I rather die, Annawillee," said Jenny.
"Him no so velly bad," said Annawillee, "but easy for young and toketie gal lik' you fin' nodder man."
She murmured, snuffling, a song that the Siwash women often sing:
"Kultus kopet nika,
Spose mika mahsh nika,
Hyu tenas men koolie kopa town,
Alkie wekt nika iskum,
Wake kul kopa nika."