“Ess—more—more. Me wise chief.”
“It’s my private opinion dat you is an old rip,” replied Joe, smiling and turning his pockets wrong side out, by which means he succeeded in finding one more quarter, which he put into the extended hand of his companion. “See—all goney!”
Pending this controversy the old man tottered to the window and looked out, but his visitor supposed it was only in apprehension of the approach of the white men, and continued his negotiations.
“Dey shan’t hurty you,” he said. “Don’t be fraidy. All good men. Jest gib me hatchet, ef you please, cap’n, to cut dis in two.”
“No un’stan’.”
“Little axy—papoose axy—eh? Understan’?” continued the black man, making strange signs by way of elucidation.
A shake of the head followed.
“You drefful dumb! Habn’t you got leetle tommyhawky?”
A distant shout was heard at this moment, and the negro, looking out of the door, saw about thirty armed Indians and half a dozen large dogs, scarcely a quarter of a mile distant, approaching the settlement.
The red men were sauntering lazily, and several bore heavy backloads of game, while others were singing and cutting antics like merry men after a successful chase.