"You should be trussed up and trounced like any child," said I, holding her with one hand whilst I scraped out snow from my neck with t'other.
At that she bent and flung a handful of snow over me; and I seized her, bent her back, and scrubbed her face till it was pink.
Choked with snow and laughter, we swayed together, breathless, she still defiant and snatching up snow to fling over me.
"You truss me up!" she panted. "Do you think you are more than a boy to use me as a father or a husband only has the right?"
"You little minx!" said I, when I had spat out a mouthful of snow, "is not anyone free to trounce a child!—--"
At that I slipped, or she tripped me; into a drift I went, and she pounced on me and sat astride with a cry of triumph.
"Now," says she, "I shall take your scalp, my fine friend"; and twisted one hand in my hair.
"Hiu-u! Kou-ee!" she cried, "a scalp taken means war to the end! Do you cry me mercy, John Drogue?"
I struggled, but the snow was soft and I sank the deeper, and could not unseat her.
"I drown in snow," said I. "Get up, you jade!"