The chief stands up an' sings like a bird--'bout the moon an' the stars an' the brooks an' the rivers an' the wrongs o' the red man, but it wouldn't be wuth the song o' a barn swaller less he can show ye that the wimmen are all right.

If they've been treated proper, it's the same as proved.

Ye let 'em out o' the bear trap which it has often happened.

But you hear to me, when they go off this way it's to kill an' grab an' hustle back with the booty.

They won't stop at butcherin'!" "I'm afraid my folks are in danger," said the boy as he changed color.
"Er mebbe Peter Boneses'-- 'cordin' to the way they go.