When they was gone I got up from where I was a layin' and trotted off.

My head was sore and ventrebleu! but I was mad, he! he! he!" All this time he spoke in French, and the English but poorly paraphrases his odd turns of expression.

His grimaces and grunts cannot even be hinted.
It was a long story, as Beverley received it, told scrappily, but with certain rude art.

In the end Oncle Jazon said with unctuous self-satisfaction: "Accidents will happen.

I got my chance at that damned Indian who skinned my head, and I jes took a bead on 'im with my old rifle.