MIKE FINK, THE KEEL-BOATMAN. 177 
something to keep me from growing dull; without some 
such business I’d be as musty as an old swamp moccason 
snake. I would build a cabin on that ar hill yonder, and 
could, from its location, with my rifle, repulse a whole 
tribe, if they dar’d to come after me. 
“What a beautiful time I’d have of it! Inever was 
particular about what’s called a fair fight; I just ask 
half a chance, and the odds against me,—and if I then 
don’t keep clear of snags and. sawyers, let me spring 
a leak and go to the bottom. It’s natur that the big fish 
should eat the little ones. I’ve seen trout swallow a 
perch, and a cat would come along and swallow the 
trout, and perhaps, on the Mississippi, the alligators use 
up the cat, and so on to the end of the row. 
“Well, I will walk tall into varmint and Indian ; it’s 
a way [ve got, and it comes as natural as grinning to a 
hyena. I’m a regular tornado—tough as a hickory— 
and long-winded as a nor’-wester. I can strike a blow 
like a falling tree—and every lick makes a gap in the 
crowd that lets in an acre of sunshine. Whew, boys!” 
shouted Mike, twirling his rifie like a walking-stick 
around his head, at the ideas suggested in his mind. 
“ Whew, boys! if the Choctaw divils in them ar woods 
thar would give us a brush, just as I feel now, I’d call 
them gentlemen. I must fight something, or [’ll catch 
the dry rot—burnt brandy won’t save me.”’ 
Such were some of the expressions which Mike gave 
utterance to, and in which his companions heartily 
8* 
