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Updated: May 26, 2025
No get-um schooner, no get-um boy." This was not very good talking, but it was not bad reasoning for a boy; and, moreover, it seemed to go home. The old Aleut sat and thought for a while. Evidently he either was willing to exchange his son for so good a rifle, or else he felt sure that no harm would come to the boy.
Me take-um all light, all light, all light!" "Hold on to your guns, boys!" called Rob, quickly. "Don't let them get hold of one of them." Then he resumed with the chief. "Heap shoot!" said he, patting his rifle. "You no take-um. S'pose you get-um schooner, maybe so we give one rifle, two rifle; maybe so flour sugar; maybe so hundred dollar. Our peoples plenty rich."
"What you do with bad mans?" asked Rob. "Plenty shoot-um!" answered the chief, sternly, slapping the stock of his gun. "Him steal! Him steal dis! Steal-um nogock! All time my peoples no get-um whale. Him steal-um nogock!" Rob was puzzled. "Now what in the world do you suppose he means?" asked he of John. "And what is that thing he's got?"
"Do you think that'll do all right, boys?" he asked. The others nodded assent, and so each signed his name. Folding up the paper and tying it in a piece of the membrane which he cut off a corner of his kamelinka, Rob finally gave the packet to the old chief. "Plenty talk-talk thing," he said. "You bring peoples get-um schooner my peoples give-um flour, sugar, two rifle, hundred dollars."
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