Then his poor, thin old voice piped out something like this:-- 'Why, bless me! I wouldn't have such a wild creature on my boat for the world--not for the whole world! He swears, he sings, he whistles, he yells--I never saw such an Injun to yell.

All times of the night--it never made any difference to him.

He would just yell that way, not for anything in particular, but merely on account of a kind of devilish comfort he got out of it.

I never could get into a sound sleep but he would fetch me out of bed, all in a cold sweat, with one of those dreadful war-whoops.

A queer being--very queer being; no respect for anything or anybody.