Thinks I, 'You saint-for-saken, infernal hell-chief, how I'd like to stick my knife in your withered old bread-basket. "'Ah! my dear fellow, no use trying that's a decided impossibility. I jumped ten feet. I swear a medicine-man couldn't a-heard me, for my lips didn't move, and how he knew is more than this hoss can tell. "'I see your nervous equilibrium is destroyed; come with me.