rathure to relish!"

Mike spoke like a good honest fellow, as he was at the bottom, with all
his heart and soul. The Indian did not seem pleased, but he made no
answer.

"You've been in the wars then, Nick!" asked the Irishman, after a short
pause.

"Yes--Nick been chief ag'in--take scalps."

"Ach! That's a mighty ugly thrade! If you'd tell 'em that in Ireland,
they'd not think it a possibility."

"No like fight in Ireland, hah?"

"I'll not say that--no, I'll not say that; for many's the jollification
at which the fighting is the chafe amusement. But we likes
_thumping_ on the head--not _skinning_ it."

"That your fashion--my fashion take scalp. You thump; I skin--which
best?"

"Augh! skinnin' is a dreadthful operation; but shillaleh-work comes
nately and nat'rally. How many of these said scalps, now, may ye have
picked up, Nick, in yer last journey?"

"T'ree--all man and woman--no pappoose. One big enough make _two_;
so call him _four_."

"Oh! Divil burn ye, Nick; but there's a spice of your namesake in ye,
afther all. T'ree human crathures skinned, and you not satisfied, and
so ye'll chait a bit to make 'em four! D'ye never think, now, of yer
latther ind? D'ye never confess?"

"T'ink every day of _dat_. Hope to find more, before last day
come. Plenty scalp _here_; ha, Mike?"

This was said a little incautiously, perhaps, but it was said under a
strong native impulse. The Irishman, however, was never very logical or
clear-headed; and three gills of rum had, by no means, helped to purify
his brain. He heard the word "plenty," knew he was well fed and warmly
clad, and just now, that Santa Cruz so much abounded, the term seemed
peculiarly applicable.

"It's a plinthiful place it is, is this very manor. There's all sorts
of things in it that's wanted. There's food and raiment, and cattle,
and grain, and porkers, and praiching--yes, divil burn it, Nick, but
there's what _goes_ for praiching, though it's no more like what
_we_ calls praiching than yer'e like Miss Maud in comeliness, and
ye'll own, yourself, Nick, yer'e no beauty."

"Got handsome hair," said Nick, surlily--"How she look widout scalp?"

"The likes of her, is it! Who ever saw one of her beauthy without the
finest hair that ever was! What do you get for your scalps?--are they
of any use when you find 'em?"

"Bring plenty bye'm-by. Whole country glad to see him before long--den
beavers get pond ag'in."

"How's that--how's that, Indian? Bai