Going into the wigwam, he unbosomed his griefs to her, and she kindly loaned him her own pipe.
"I hopes dere ain't no powder in dat," he remarked, glancing uneasily into the bowl.
"Nothing but tobac," replied his spouse, in her native tongue, "unless you've put the powder in yourself." "Dunderation, I don't does dat, and blow mine eyes out my head.

Dem little Dutchmen is up to all kinds of such tricks, and some dese days dey will blow deir poor fader's brains out of his head, and den what will become of dem ?" feelingly inquired Hans Vanderbum.
"What will become of them ?" repeated Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, her voice rising higher and higher at each word.

"Who is it that supports them now and takes care of them?
Who is it that does that?
Who is it--" "It's you--it's you," replied her husband, seeing the mistake he had made.

"I doesn't do nottings--I doesn't do nottings; it's my wife, my good Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, dat does it all.

She's a very nice squaw, de same shape all de way down." These concessions and compliments greatly soothed the feelings of the incensed spouse.