ing ashamed! Their
game is not unknown to the juveniles of our own land. It goes by the
name "odd-or-even."

The manner of conducting the game varies a little here and there in its
details, but its principle is the same everywhere: "I want your
possessions, and get them I will, by hook or crook! I couldn't think of
robbing you--O no; there might be jail or penal servitude on the back of
that; and I won't accept your gifts--good gracious, no! that would
involve the loss of self-respect. No, no. Let us humbug each other. I
will rob you if I can, and you will rob me if you can, and we'll
mutually agree to throw dust in each other's eyes and call it `play'!
Nothing, surely, could be fairer than that!"

Of course poor Mozwa did not reason thus. He was not cultured enough
for that. In fact, he did not reason at all about the matter, as far as
we know, but there can be no question that the poor fellow was smitten
with the disease of covetousness, and instead of seeking for a cure,
like a manly savage, he adopted the too civilised plan of encouraging
and excusing it.

Aware of his propensities, Mrs Mozwa was much too knowing to allow the
goods and trinkets destined for herself and family to remain in his
power. She at once appropriated them, and secreted such of them as she
did not require for present use. But there were articles which she
could not well treat in that way with any shadow of excuse: for
instance, the gun, powder and shot, bows and arrows, tobacco and pipes,
hatchets and scalping-knives, blankets and masculine garments, which
were in daily use. These were frequently lost and re-won before winter
had fairly begun, but Mozwa was too fond of the excitement of gambling
to make desperate ventures all at once. He liked to spin it out.

One night he had what is styled a "run of bad luck." Being in something
of a reckless mood, he went to visit a young friend who was as fond of
gambling as himself, and took most of his worldly possessions with him.
The friend, with a number of companions, was seated beside the wigwam
fire, and quite ready to begin.

Taking a button, or some such object, in his hand, and putting both
hands behind his back, the friend began to bob his head and shoulders up
and down in an idiotic fashion, at the same time chanting in a sing-song
monotone, "Ho yo, yo ho, hi ya yoho!" for a considerable length of time,
while Mozwa staked his blanket, a fine thick green one, purchased at
Gre