“’Cause I don’t want to. Never told ye how I learned to smoke this yer way, did I? No? I’ll tell ye then. When I was quite a young man I was taken by the Crows. Durn ’em ef they didn’t keep me among ’em more then three years. Made me a chief, and what not. Wal, they all smoke this yer way, and I took it up. Don’t rile me up, Dutchy. I’m the Big Buffalo of the Crow nation. Rile me, and I light on ye pooty heavy. Smooth me down and I’m _ile_; but slick me the wrong way and I’m a p’ison critter. Look out fer me when I flop my wings and crow.” “Look at the hills,” said Jan, prudently changing the course of the conversation. “Vat you dinks ven I dells you I’ve seen hills all made up mit ice, unt dey so pig ash dese hills, eh?” “I should think your story was like the hills,” said Jules. “How vash dat?” “_Made up_ mit a lie,” said the Frenchman, laughing and turning again to his soup. “Den you ish von tam vool,” said Jan, in a rage. “It ish no more as vive years since I cooms from Yarmany mit a backet. I vas very pad ven I cooms avay. I vish I vash stay at home. Put it vash near spring ven I cooms avay, unt the vind drive us up north. Unt den cooms von of dese hills made up mit ice.” “It’s true,” said Ben. “I’ve seen ’em myself off the mouth of the Columby. They call ’em icebergs.” “Dat’s it. Dat’s the name!” said Jan. “Vell, I stands on the deck mit the packet, unt I sees it coom. I goes to the captain unt I dells him America has proke loose, unt vash cooming down on the sheep, unt would sink her. He laugh at me, unt said it vash an iceberg. Unt I vatched it very close, unt py unt py it tipped oop, unt turned auver, unt I dinks we ish gone. But it not strike the sheep.” “Lucky fer you,” said Ben. “Vat vash you dink auver an iceberg ash vash so pig ash it vash tip auver on the sheep, unt sink the sheep. Now I ask you not for to pelieve all dis unless you vash a mind to. You must do ash you blease. Put dis is vat I sees myself. Vat is your opinion mit dese tam icebergs?” “Oh, they say that they break away from the hills up north and float down yer. That’s all I know.” “Yaw. Put vat makes dem tip auver? Dat ish vat I vants to know.” “How kin I tell?” “Vell, I dells you my opinion mit dese tam ole icebergs. Dey ish very pig. Put, vat vas you dink mit a _vale_ (whale) ash vas so pig as he vash go unther an iceberg, unt lift the iceberg oop on his pack, unt tip her auver on the sheep, unt sink the sheep. Dat ish my opinion mit dese tipping icebergs.” “Ye don’t mean to tell me thet you think a whale goes under an iceberg and tips it over?” “Yaw. De vale goes unther the iceberg, unt lifts it oop on his pack, and tips it auver on de sheep. Dat ish vat I dinks.” “He couldn’t do it,” said Ben. “Darn it. I’ve seen icebergs, and I’ve seen whales, but I never seen a whale big enough to do thet, nor you either.”