he gave a dreadful scream, and said, "Ma, it's
me!" and the smoke curled up out of his pockets and around his neck, and
he burned up and died. I know this is true, because Tom McGinnis went to
school with him, and told me about it.

Mr. Martin came to see Susan last night for the first time since we had
our game; and I wish he had never come back, for he got me into an awful
scrape. This was the way it happened. I was playing Indian in the yard.
I had a wooden tomahawk and a wooden scalping-knife and a bownarrow. I
was dressed up in father's old coat turned inside out, and had six
chicken feathers in my hair. I was playing I was Green Thunder, the
Delaware chief, and was hunting for pale-faces in the yard. It was just
after supper, and I was having a real nice time, when Mr. Travers came,
and he said, "Jimmy, what are you up to now?" So I told him I was Green
Thunder, and was on the war-path. Said he, "Jimmy, I think I saw Mr.
Martin on his way here. Do you think you would mind scalping him?" I
said I wouldn't scalp him for nothing, for that would be cruelty; but if
Mr. Travers was sure that Mr. Martin was the enemy of the red man, then
Green Thunder's heart would ache for revenge, and I would scalp him with
pleasure. Mr. Travers said that Mr. Martin was a notorious enemy and
oppressor of the Indians, and he gave me ten cents, and said that as
soon as Mr. Martin should come and be sitting comfortably on the piazza,
I was to give the war-whoop and scalp him.

Well, in a few minutes Mr. Martin came, and he and Mr. Travers and Susan
sat on the piazza, and talked as if they were all so pleased to see each
other, which was the highestpocracy in the world. After a while Mr.
Martin saw me, and said, "How silly boys are! that boy makes believe
he's an Indian, and he knows he is only a little nuisance." Now this
made me mad, and I thought I would give him a good scare, just to teach
him not to call names if a fellow does beat him in a fair game. So I
began to steal softly up the piazza steps, and to get around behind him.
When I had got about six feet from him I gave a war-whoop, and jumped at
him. I caught hold of his scalp-lock with one hand, and drew my wooden
scalping-knife around his head with the other.

I never got such a fright in my whole life. The knife was that dull that
it wouldn't have cut butter; but, true as I sit here, Mr. Martin's whole
scalp came right off in my hand. I thought I had killed him, and I
dropped