abbregynes; and if you ever seed fighting, ’tarnal death to me, but you’ll say it war only the squabbling of seed-ticks and blue-bottle flies!  I say, sodger, show me anngelliferous madam:  you cut the halter, and you cut the tug; but it war madam the anngel that set you on:  wharfo’, I’m her dog and her niggur from now to etarnity, and I’m come to fight for her, and lick her enemies till you shall see nothing left of ’em but ha’rs and nails!”

Of these expressions, uttered with extreme volubility and the most extravagant gestures, Roland took no notice; his astonishment at the horse-thief’s appearance was giving way to new thoughts and hopes, and he eagerly demanded of Ralph how he had got there.

“In the dug-out,"[9] said Ralph; “found her floating among the bushes, ax’d me out a flopper[10] with my tom-axe in no time, jumped in, thought of anngelliferous madam, and came down the falls like a cob in a corn-van—­ar’n’t I the leaping trout of the waters?  Strannger, I don’t want to sw’ar; but I reckon if there ar’n’t hell up thar among the big stones, thar’s hell no other whar all about Salt River!  But I say, sodger, I came here not to talk nor cavort[11], but to show that I’m the man, Ralph Stackpole, to die dog for them that pats me.  So, whar’s anngelliferous madam?  Let me see her, sodger, that I may feel wolfish when I jumps among the redskins; for I’m all for a fight, and thar ar’n’t no run in me.”

[Footnote 9:  Dug-out—­a canoe—­because dug out or hollowed with the axe.]

[Footnote 10:  Flopper—­a flapper, a paddle.]

[Footnote 11:  Cavort—­to play pranks, to gasconade.]

“It is well, indeed, if it shall prove so,” said Roland, not without bitterness; “for it is to you alone we owe all our misfortunes.”

With these words, he led the way to the place, where, among the horses, concealed among brambles and stones, lay the unfortunate females, cowering on the bare earth.  The pale sheets of lightning, flashing now with greater frequency, revealed them to Ralph’s eyes, a ghastly and melancholy pair, whose situation and appearance were well fitted to move the feelings of a manly bosom; Edith lying almost insensible across Telie’s knees, while the latter, weeping bitterly, yet seemed striving to forget her own distresses, while ministering to those of her companion.

“’Tarnal death to me!” cried Stackpole, looking upon Edith’s pallid visage and rayless eyes with more emotion than would have been expected from his rude character, or than was expressed in his uncouth phrases, “if that don’t make me eat a niggur, may I be tetotaciously chawed up myself!  Oh, you anngelliferous madam! jist look up and say the word, for I’m now ready to mount a wild-cat:  jist look up, and don’t make a die of it, for thar’s no occasion:  for ar’n’t I your niggur-slave, Ralph Stackpole? and ar’n’t I come to lick all that’s agin you, Mingo, Shawnee, Delaware, and all!  Oh, you anngelliferous crittur! don’t swound away, but look up, and see how I’ll wallop ’em!”