“If you’ll only let me go, I’ll give you every thing I’ve got in the world.  He don’t want to live as bad as I do, and I’ll give you as much for me alone as I will for both.”

“You’re a purty white man, now, ain’t you?” said Sneak.  “But its all the same.  My chance is jest as good as your’n.  They’re only fooling you, jest to laugh.  I’ve made up my mind to die, and I ain’t a going to make any fun for ’em.  And you might as well say your prayers fust as last; they’re only playing with you now like a cat with a mice.”

The old Indian moved towards Sneak, followed by the others.

“How much you give?” asked the savage.

“Not a coon’s tail,” replied Sneak, with firmness.

“Now how much?” continued the Indian, slapping the thin lank cheek of his prisoner.

“Not a dod-rotted cent!  Now jest take your tomahawk and split my skull open as quick as you kin!” said Sneak; and he bowed down his head to receive the fatal blow.

“You brave rascal,” said the Indian, looking his captive in the eye, and hesitating whether to practice his petty annoyances any further.  At length they turned again to Joe.

“That wasn’t fair, Sneak,” cried Joe, when the savages abandoned his fellow-prisoner; “you ought to have kept them away from me as long as I did from you.”

“I’m gitting sick of this tanterlizing business,” said Sneak.  “I want ’em to git through the job, without any more fooling about it.  If you wasn’t sich a coward, they’d let you alone, and kill us at once.”

“I don’t want them to kill us—­I’d rather they’d do any thing in the world than to kill us,” replied Joe.

“Me won’t hurt you,” said the old savage, again placing his hand on Joe’s head; but instead of gently patting it, he wound a lock of hair round one of his fingers, and with a sudden jerk tore it out by the roots.

“Oh, my gracious!  Oh, St. Peter!  Oh, Lord!  Mr. Indian, I beg and pray of you not to do that any more.  If you’ll only untie me, I’ll get down on my knees to you,” exclaimed poor Joe.

“Poor fellow, me won’t hurt him any more—­poor head!” said the Indian, tearing off another lock.

“Oh! oh! goodness gracious. Dear Mr. Indian, don’t do that!  You can have no idea how bad it hurts—­I can’t stand it.  I’ll faint presently!” said Joe, trembling at every joint.

“You’re a fool,” said Sneak, “to mind ’em that way.  If you wasn’t to notice ’em, they wouldn’t do it.  See how they’re laughing at you.”

“Oh, Sneak, I can’t help it, to save my life, indeed I can’t.  Oh, my good Lord, what would I give to be away from here!” said Joe, his eyes fit to burst from their sockets.

“I’ve killed many a deer in a minit—­it don’t hurt a man to die more than a deer.  I wish the snarvilorous copper-skinned rascals would git through quick!” said Sneak.

“Me try you agin,” said the savage, again going to Sneak.