"Betsy Grumbo," ses I to my gun, "you mus' put lead through two ob de varmints on de log, ef you cain't through all four." Bang barks Betsy; up jumps all de Injuns, two falls back dead behin' de log, two goes runnin' down de hill a-yellin' as ef de Ol' Scratch wus arter 'em wid a sharp stick. ["H-yah, h-yah, h-yah!" Audience.] "I yi, you dogs!" says I, lungin' out uf de bushes. "Whoo-oop!" yells big Injun, a-jerkin' his tommyhawk out uf de tree and flingin' it whizz at my head. I knocks it away wid my ax an' drives on. Here comes anudder a-whizzin'. Knocks dat off, too, still a-drivin' on at 'im. "I yi, you dogs!" Anudder tommyhawk ready to fly. I knocks dat out de big Injun's han'. Big Injun jumps back'ards, I jumps for'ards, my ax high up an' ready fur a cleaver. No chance fur big Injun; ef he starts to run, it's a split in de back; ef he jumps to one side, it's a gash in de neck. De cleaver's a-comin' down, when here, wid a duck uf de head, comes Injun right at me, his shoulder under my arm. Down draps de ax, a-stickin' in de groun' atwixt his heels. Bes' thing he could a-done fur hisse'f--cunnin' as a fox.
Den, ladies an' gen'lemen, we clinches, an' away we goes a-plungin' an' a-whirlin'; through de bushes an' through de fire, roun' an' roun' de logs, roun' an' roun' de trees, roun' an' roun' de hill. Now I tosses 'im up tel his heels kicked de lim's uf de trees, he's so long; but eb'ry time I thinks I's gwine to bring him down kerwollop, down he comes wid all his feet under him, like a cat. Activest thing I eber seed--he's so long. Den he picks me up an' shakes me, dang-a-lang-a-downy-yo, as ef I's nothin' but a string-j'inted limber-jack. But when I at's him ag'in, to lock legs or kick ankles, dar he's 'way off yander, a-tippin' it on his toes, like a killdee. No gittin' a-nigh him, he's so active, he's so long.
By an' by I happens to look 'roun'. Dar's de dead varmint in de blue coat an' ruffled shirt up ag'in, wid his gun on de log, an' p'intin' right at my ribs. "Ouch!" ses I, an' flings Black Thunder atwix. Black Thunder flings me back fur de pop. Back I flings him ag'in atwix. Den him me ag'in, me him ag'in, an' all de time de dead varmint a-follerin' us wid his gun, waitin' to pop my flanks. So, de dead varmint kep' me watchin' so close, an' de live varmint kep' me movin' so fas', I didn't know what I's doin', couldn't tell whar I's gwine. Dar I was, rammed close up in a corner atwix a tree an' a log; no gittin' out, no flingin' big Injun atwix. Dead varmint takin' his aim--finger on trigger, ready to pull. "Burlman Rennuls," ses I to myse'f, "you's a goner," when dar comes Grumbo a-pitchin'--no stoppin' to smell noses. One long lunge he makes, one long, stretchin' lunge--sich a lunge I neber seed a dog make befo'. 'Peared as ef he'd lef' his hin' parts way back yander, to git de quicker at de varmint's throat wid his fo'parts. Back falls Injun, wid a kick an' a yell; off goes gun, wid a kick an' a bang, the bullet a-whizzin' right 'twix' our noses. "Ouch!" ses I. "Ugh!" says Black Thunder. [Audience: "I yi!" "Oho!" "U-gooh!" See Glossary. It may have been a coincidence, but just here Grumbo fetched the stump a ratifying rap of the tail.]