“You’d better not let him ketch you at that,” said Sneak.

“He’ll think its a tick biting him—­I want to see if the Indians scratch like other people,” said Joe.

Mary, being so requested by her father, began to relate every thing that transpired up to her rescue, while she was in the possession of the savages.  The Indian riveted his eyes upon her during the recital, and seemed to mark every word.  Whether he understood all she said, or was enchanted with her soft and musical tones, could not be ascertained; but the listeners more than once observed with astonishment his gleaming eyes, his attentive attitude, and the intense interest exhibited in his face.  It was during a moment when he was thus absorbed that he suddenly sprang erect.  Joe threw down his switch, convulsed with internal laughter.  Sneak leaned back against the wall, and while he grinned at the amusing scene, seemed curious to know what would be the result.  Mary paused, and Glenn inquired the cause of the interruption.

“Its nothing, hardly,” said Sneak:  “only a spark of fire got agin the Indian’s foot.  He ain’t as good pluck as the other one we had—­he could stand burning at the stake without flinching.”

“Did either of you place the fire against his foot?” demanded Glenn, in something like anger.  But before he could receive an answer, the young chief, who had whirled round furiously, and cast a fierce look at his tormentor, relaxing his knit brows into an expression of contempt, very deliberately took hold of Joe’s ear, and turning on his heel like a pivot, forced him to make many circles round him on the floor.

“Let go my ear!” roared Joe, pacing round in pain.

“Hold your holt, my snarvilerous yaller prairie dog!” cried Sneak, inexpressibly amused.

“Let go my ear, I say!” cried Joe, still trotting round, with both hands grasping the Indian’s wrist.  “Mr. Glenn!  Mr. Glenn!” continued Joe, “he’s pinching a hole through my ear!  Shoot him down, shoot him down.  There’s my gun, standing against the wall—­but its not loaded!  Take my knife—­oh, he’s tearing my ear off!” When the Indian thought he was sufficiently punished, he led him back to his seat, and relinquished his hold.  He then resumed his own seat, and composedly turning his eyes to Mary, seemed to desire her to proceed with the narration.  She did so, but when she spoke of her attempt to escape in the prairie, of the young chief’s noble conduct, and his admiration of her ring (and she pulled off her glove and exhibited it as she spoke,) he again rose from his seat, and walking, apparently unconsciously, to where she reclined upon her father’s knees, fixed his eyes upon the jewel in a most mysterious manner.  He no longer dwelt upon the maiden’s sweet tones.  He did nothing but gaze at the ring.

“He’s got a notion to steal that ring!” said Joe, with a sneer.

“Shot your mouth!” said Sneak, observing that Mary looked reproachfully at Joe, and paused.