side of the lodge, under the protecting care of their mother.

"Dunder and blixen! You dunderin' Dutch Indians, dishturbin' your poor
old dad dat is wearing his life out for you! I'll pound both of you
till you're dead!"

Hans Vanderbum's system had suffered too great a shock for further
slumber. He rose to the sitting position, and, digging both hands into
his head, glared at his offspring a moment, and then began his regular
lecture.

"Quanonshet, you little Dutchman, and Madokawandock, you little bigger
Dutchman, vot does you t'ink of yourselves? Vot does you t'ink will
become of you, disgracing your parents in this manner? You oughter be
pounded to death to treat your poor old fader in this manner, who is
working of himself away to bring you up in the way you ought for to go.
Eh? vot do you t'ink of yourself, eh? Vot do you t'ink of yourself?"
demanded Hans, furiously shaking his head toward the boys at each word.

Quanonshet and Madokawandock were too confounded for reply.

"Shposing your poor old fader should go crazy!! Here he is working
himself to skin and bone--Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, ain't you got
dat cooked?"

[Illustration: "Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, ain't you got dat
cooked?"]

"No!" screamed the wife. "You big, lazy man, get up and stir yourself!
You don't do anything but sleep and smoke, while _I'm_ working all the