"They can't scalp me," remarked Mole. "Why not?" "I wear a wig, to which they are welcome, if they will only spare my life." "Whoop! la whoop!" yelled the Indians, dancing about in eccentric circles. Twinkle fell on his knees, and clasping his hands begged for mercy. "Oh! good, kind gentlemen!" he said. "Have pity on a poor Englishman far away from home, who only came out here in the interest of science." "Ugh! take scalp, want heap scalp to put in wigwam," replied an Indian. "I've very little hair, sir; it is scarcely worth taking." "My white brother is a squaw, he has the heart of a dog; the pale-face is a coward; ugh! I have spoken." Captain Cannon and Mr. Mole followed Twinkle's example and sunk on their knees. They looked very comical in this undignified position. The Indians stood over them, each selecting his victim and threatening him with a tomahawk in one hand and the scalping-knife in the other. Jack knocked off the professor's hat and making a rapid circle with his knife, lifted the wig. "Ha! white man heap big fraud," he exclaimed as he hung the wig at his belt. "I'm very sorry, sir," replied Mole. "But I couldn't help growing bald. It's my misfortune, not my fault--nature did it--all my family lose their hair quite early in life." "Give watch, money!" "Certainly, with the greatest pleasure in life," said Mole, emptying his pockets. He handed out some currency, a watch and chain, chewing tobacco and a small flask of spirits. "What this? fire-water, hey?" "Yes, good, kind sir. It's old rye whisky." "If bad, Indian kill lying pale-face," said Jack, tasting the whisky and handing it to Harvey and Van Hoosen, who evinced their satisfaction by guttural sounds and grunts. Harvey contented himself with cutting Mr. Twinkle's hair as short as he could, and Van Hoosen did the same for the fire-eating captain. They then tore up their hats and the close-cropped looked as if they had just come out of jail, while Mole's polished crown shone in the sunshine like a ball of ivory. Mr. Twinkle and the captain had to give up all their valuables, which they did gladly, thinking they were very lucky to escape with their lives. "White men crawl on belly, like snake, and kiss Indians' feet," exclaimed Jack. "I don't care about doing that," replied Mole. Jack flourished his knife. "White dog want to die?" he asked. "Oh! no. Not yet. I'll do it," cried Mole, hastily. Jack retreated several paces, and the professor crawled toward him, kissing his feet. Van Hoosen and Harvey made their captives do the same thing. "Whoop!" cried Jack, "we leave the white squaws now." He took another drink out of the flask, his companions did the same, and then they vanished in the thicket as mysteriously as they had come. "That was a narrow escape," said the professor. "Yes, indeed," replied Captain Cannon. "I shall have a fine story to tell when I get back to London. First, I killed a savage buffalo bull, in the wilds of New Jersey."