"How came the Injin to knock the muskets overboard,
Corporal?" inquired one of the party who had not yet
spoken--a fat, portly man, with a long hooked nose, and
a peaked chin.
"I'm dashed," replied Nixon, "if I can tell myself, though
I was looking at him as he jumped from one end of the
boat to the other. All I know is, the firelocks were
propped against the stern of the boat as we placed them,
with the backs of the cartouch boxes slung under the
ramrods, and I suppose, for I don't know how else it
could be done, that instead of alighting on the seat, he
must have passed it, and putting his foot on the muzzles,
tipped them with the weight of his body, head over heels
into the water."
"Corporal," Ventured Collins, as he removed his last
garment, "you asked that painted chap if he saw anything
green in your eye. Now, that's as it may be, but hang
me, if it wasn't a little green to take him for a
Pottawattamie?"
"And how do you know he was'nt a Pottawattamie? Who made
you a judge of Indian flesh?" retorted the corporal, with
an air of dissatisfaction.
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