"Dunder and blixen! who are you?" inquired Hans, more astonished than
ever. "Did you drop down out te clouds?"
"Yah! yah! yah! what makes you fink so, old hogsit, eh? No, sir-ee!
I's Mr. Cato, a nigger gentleman of Mr. Capting Prescott."
The large eyes of the Dutchman grew larger as he proceeded. "Vot makes
you falls on mine head, eh?"
"I's up in de tree a-takin' ob obserwashuns, when jis' as you got down
hyar, de limb broke, and down I comes. Much obleege fur yer bein' so
kind fur to stand under and breaks my fall."
"And breaks mine own neck, too, eh?"
"Who might be you wid your big bread-basket?" inquired Cato, still
lying upon his back and kicking up his heels.
"Me? I's Hans Vanderbum, dat pelongs to Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock."
Cato grew sober in an instant. He had heard Lieutenant Canfield
mention this man's name in conversation with the Huron, and suspected
at once that he was to perform a part in the day's work.
"You're Hans Vanderbum, eh? I've heerd Massa Canfield and Mister
Oonymoo speak of you."
"Yaw, I'm him. Where am dey?"
"Ain't fur off. I lef 'em sleepin'; and come out for to see whedder
dar war any Injines crawlin' round in de woods, and I didn't see none
but you, and you ain't an Injine."
The appointed hour for the meeting between Hans Vanderbum and Oonomoo
having arrived, the Dutchman added:
"He ish to meet me 'bout dis time or leetles sooner, and, so we both
goes togedder mit each oder, so dat we won't bees alone.
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