“Ugh!”
“Vot’s dot?” asked the bad man.
“Ugh!” repeated the Indian.
“Is dot a man or a cow? Vot for a kind of talk is dot?”
“Ugh, ugh, ugh!” was the Indian’s reply.
“Vere is your pain, mein friend?”
“Got no pain—want firewater,” said the Indian, stolidly.
“Vell, vot do you t’ink of dot?” said Morris aloud, “vanting fire und vater hot, togedder.”
The noble redman then pointed to the formidable array of pistols and said, solemnly:
“Ugh! pale-face heap big chief. Give Injun tobac.”