To one accustomed to be treated kindly, as was the case with
Margery, the Chippewa's theory for the management of squaws
contained much to excite her mirth, as well as her resentment, as
she now made apparent by her remarks.
"You do not deserve to HAVE a wife, Pigeonswing," she cried, half-
laughing, yet evidently alive to the feelings of her sex--"can have
no gratitude for a wife's tenderness and care. I wonder that a
Chippewa girl can be found to have you?"
"Don't want him," coolly returned the Indian, making his
preparations to light his pipe--"got Winnebagoe squaw, already; good
'nough for me. Shoot her t'other husband and take his scalp--den she
come into my wigwam."
"The wretch!" exclaimed Margery.
But this was a word the savage did not understand, and he continued
to puff at the newly lighted tobacco, with all of a smoker's zeal.
When the fire was secured, he found time to continue the subject.
"Yes, dat good war-path--got rifle; got wife; got TWO scalp! Don't
do so well, ebbery day."
"And that woman hoes your corn, and cooks your venison?" demanded
the bee-hunter.
"Sartain--capital good to hoe--no good to cook--make deer meat too
dry.
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