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In the last nine cases, in which the Indian who had murdered Governor Bent was tried, Baptiste, as soon as the jury room was closed, sang out: "Hang 'em, hang 'em, sacre enfans des garces, dey dam gran rascale!" "But wait," suggested one of the cooler members; "let's look at the evidence and find out whether they are really guilty."

"An' we'll have to send that Injun and his family a knife and some beads to make up for the fright they got." "Ha! an' fat is to be give to me for my broke shoulder?" "Credit, man, credit," said Dick Varley, laughing. "Credit! fat is dat?" "Honour and glory, lad, and the praises of them savages." "Ha! de praise? more probeebale de ill-vill of de rascale. I seed dem scowl at me not ver' pritty."

"They haven't treated us overly well," remarked Joe Blunt, as they strode through the underwood. "Non, de rascale, vraiment, de am villains. Oui! How de have talk, too, 'bout oh-o-oo-ooo-wah! roastin' us alive, an' puttin' our scalp in de vigvam for de poo-poose to play wid!"

"They haven't treated us overly well," remarked Joe Blunt, as they strode through the underwood. "Non, de rascale, vraiment, de am villains. Oui! How de have talk, too, 'bout oh-o-oo-ooo-wah! roastin' us alive, an' puttin' our scalp in de vigvam for de poopoose to play wid!"

"Hah! an' fat is to be give to me for my broke shoulder?" "Credit, man, credit," said Dick Varley, laughing. "Credit! fat is dat?" "Honour and glory, lad, and the praises of them savages." "Ha! de praise? more probeebale de ill-vill of de rascale. I seed dem scowl at me not ver' pritty." "That's true, Henri, but sich as it is it's all ye'll git."