I jist want to ax you where you picked up that Injun-looking feller that was lugging off the gal, and what his natur'?
The Injuns say, he's a conjuror: now I never heerd of conjurors among the whites, like as among the Injuns, afore I cut loose from 'em, and I'm cur'ous on the subject!--I jist ax you a civil question, and I don't mean no harm in it.

There's nobody can make the feller out; and, as for Ralph Stackpole, blast him, he says he never seed the crittur afore in his life!" "If you would have me answer _your_ question," said Roland, in whom Doe's discourse was beginning to stir up many a former feeling, "you must first answer mine.

This person you speak of,--what is to be his fate ?" "Why, burning, I reckon: but that's according as he pleases the old Vulture: for, if he can find out what never an Injun Medicine has been able to do, it may be, the old chief will feed him up and make him his conjuror.

They say, he's conjuring with the crittur now." "And Stackpole, what will they do with him ?" "Burn him, sartin! They're jist waiting till the warriors come in from the Licking, where, you must know, they have taken a hundred scalps, or so, at one grab: and then the feller will roast beyond all mention." "And I, too," said the Virginian, with such calmness us he could, "I, too, am to meet the same fate ?" "Most ondoubtedly," said Doe, with an ominous nod of assent.

"There's them among us that speak well of you, as having heart enough to be made an Injun: but there's them that have sworn you shall burn; and burn you _must!_--That is, onless--" But he was interrupted by Roland, exclaiming hurriedly,-- "There is but one more to speak of--my cousin?
my poor friendless cousin ?" "There," said Doe, "you needn't be afeard of burning, by no means whatsomever.