Stake down in village for you." The old man neither moved his head nor gave the slightest sign that he had heard.
"Squaw eat heart," went on the Indian, prodding him with his stick; "feed bones to dog.

All white men go that way now,--Ol' Burns first." "Topenebe," was the quiet reply, as the victim rolled over until he half-sat against the bank, "I had the pleasure o' kickin' ye once down on the Kankakee, an' should be mighty glad ter do it agin.

I reckon as how ye don't feel over friendly ter me, but ye 're simply wastin' yer breath tauntin' me.

Any time yer derned old fire is hot, I 'm ready to dance." These calm words angered the warrior, and he spat at him; then he turned and grunted an order in his own language.

With blows of their sticks the Indians got us on our feet; but when they sought to drive us up the steep bank to the prairie, Ol' Burns balked and absolutely refused to move.
"Not one dern step, Topenebe," he swore grimly, "with these yere things on my legs.