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Why-o-me make strong." "So that's how they miscall hooch down in this country," ruminated Higgins. "No, Willy; we don't pack any liquor. Shall I give him a piece of plug?" "Suit yourself if you've got any." "Got any? Never go into an Indian country without it." Higgins produced from his bag a slab of plug tobacco which made Willy's mouth water. "Willy," said Payne suddenly, "who is Mr. Garman?"
Higgins dipped his hand overboard and sprinkled water on the Indian's head. "I hereby christen you Willy High Pockets. And may they never be empty." An awful contortion took place upon the Seminole's mahogany features. He was trying to grin. "You give good Seminole why-o-me," he said, ceasing his paddling to rub his stomach. "Willy Tiger " "High Pockets!" "Willy High Pock' sick.
"Esoka Bonus-che why-o-me," said Willy. "What?" "Why-o-me me want some." "Is that what you came for?" demanded Roger. The Indian shook his head. "For whiskey?" "No. Chobee eestee hotkee come soon himself. He say I go here. I come. Him shoot. Esoka bonus chee why-o-me." "No. No whiskey," said Roger. "Who is this big white man, Willy?" "Him come ojus soon. Etalitke. Gimme tobacco."
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