Then he picked up his moccasin.
"Them damn' snake, him no speakum," he observed disgustedly.

"Heap fool me; him biteum"-- he made a stabbing gesture with thumb and finger in the air by way of illustration--"then him go quick." He began gingerly trying to force the moccasin upon his foot, his mouth drawn down with the look of one who considers that he has been hardly used.
"How you get home ?" Good Indian's thoughts swung round to practical things.

"You got horse ?" Peppajee shook his head, reached for his knife, and slit the moccasin till it was no more than a wrapping.

"Mebbyso heap walk," he stated simply.
"Mebbyso you won't do anything of the kind," Good Indian retorted.

"You come down and take a horse.