The poor half-witted fellow was so badly frightened that he could only groan.
"Silvertip scalp paleface.

Ugh!" growled the savage, giving Loorey another blow on the side.

This time he bent over in pain.

The bystanders were divided in feeling; the men laughed, while the women murmured sympathetically.
"This's not a bit funny," muttered Joe, as he pushed his way nearly to the middle of the crowd.

Then he stretched out a long arm that, bare and brawny, looked as though it might have been a blacksmith's, and grasped the Indian's sinewy wrist with a force that made him loosen his hold on Loorey instantly.
"I stole the shirt--fun--joke," said Joe.