“Ef she’s dead, may she rest easy in her grave. But I don’t think she would, any way. I’ve got my opinion, an’ I think she’d never rest in any grave. They won’t hev her in the other world nuther. She’d worrit them to death, mind ye.” “Vy don’t you dells me vat pe her name, Penn?” said Jan. “Hill-a-leah, the Green Snake. Lovely name, ain’t it?” “Goot cracious. Dat ain’t a vooman’s name?” “Ain’t it? _Prehaps_ yer right. I doubt ef she’s a woman _myself_. Anyhow, I’ve got my opinion and I reckon she’s got a devil in her. I hearn a preacher down to the fort tell of a woman thet hed seven devils in her, an’ thet the good man cast ’em out. Now, ef any one woman hed seven such lively devils in her ez the Green Snake hez, then she must hev been a healthy female, thet’s all. How gits on the grub, Jule?” “Near done, Ben. In five minutes.” “All right. Soon as convenient I’ll worry down a piece of thet venison. I’d like to make a trade with Jan fer this wife of mine. She ain’t no use to _me_, an’ I think she’d be just the woman for Jan.” “I dells you again, I don’t vant no voomans ash vas hev such names ash Hill-a-baloo,” added Jan. “Schnake--Creen Schnake! Der Himmel, dat ish dreadful! Don’t you talk mit me no more ’pout her. I rather gifs you de knife dan marry a voomans like that.” “Wal, I’m sorry we kain’t make a trade,” said Ben, regretfully; “raally sorry. I’d like to sell her to some likely man thet would set store by her, an’ not run away from her in less than two months. I wouldn’t risk a cent thet any man could keep his nat’ral senses an’ stay with her longer then that, unless he was sorter seasoned to it, same as I was. I’d ’a’ been a chief among the Crows now, ef it hadn’t been fer thet.” “Is that the reason you left, eh?” said Jules. “Ye bet ye! I liked it there fust rate. They never made me go out on the’r war-parties unless I hed a mind to, though I went out offen enough, fer thet matter. Ye see, I’m down on Blackfeet fer more reasons then one; an’ the Crows are the nat’ral inemies of them critters. I’d like to extarminate the hull cussed race of them, durn the’r picters!” “What makes you hate the Blackfeet so?” said Jules.