The forest around with the loud echo rang,
The gun burst to atoms, so great was the shock,
And vanished entirely, lock, barrel and stock:
While wholly uninjured, incredible though,
It seems, I acknowledge, was Little White Crow.
But the Iroquois Chief gave a horrible yell,
He threw up his arms and then backward he fell;
He sprang to his feet and fell backward again,
He rolled, and he writhed, and he wriggled with pain.
His friends gathered round him and started aghast,