"Gimme a drink o' watah.

I'se burnin' up." While Whitey held a cup of water to Slim's lips, Injun struggled with his bonds, and with great difficulty succeeded in releasing him.

Whitey asked a hundred questions meanwhile, none of which Slim answered.

He seemed entirely absorbed in his own troubles, and when he was free, he carefully felt himself all over.
"Dis is fine foh mah misery, fine!" he said bitterly.
As far as Whitey had ever been able to learn, a "misery" was a sort of rheumatism.
"How is your misery ?" he asked, despairing of getting him to talk about anything but himself.
"Tehibul, tehibul," groaned Slim; "an' dey tie me wid a rawhide rope, too, dat jest eat into mah flesh." And Slim looked venomously down at the lariat that lay at his feet.
"Who tied you ?" Whitey inquired.
"I dunno.

Wen I wakes up dis yeah rag is bein' jammed into mah mouf, an' dis yeah coat bein' wrapped round mah haid, an' dat dere rope bein' twisted round mah body, till it cuts mah ahms an' legs somethin' scand'lus.