stand upon niceties. I wish, though, I had been brought up a red Indian;
it would have come natural then, I suppose."

So saying, he took out his pocket-knife, opened it, and went to the body
of the dead fakir. He took the long, matted hair into his hand with an
exclamation of disgust, but saw at once that his idea was a feasible one.
The hair was matted together in an inextricable mass, and could be trusted
to hang together.

He accordingly set to work to cut it off close to the head; but although
his knife was a sharp one it was a long and unpleasant task, and nothing
but the necessity of the case could have nerved him to get through with
it.

At last it was finished, and he looked at his work with complacency.

"That's a magnificent wig," he said. "I defy the best barber in the world
to make such a natural one. Now for the bear."

This was a long task; but at last the bear was skinned, and Dick set to to
clean, as well as he could, the inside of the hide. Then he dragged into a
corner and covered up the carcass of the bear and the body of the fakir,
having first stripped the clothes off the latter, scattered a little straw
over the bear's skin, and then, his task being finished, he crept behind
the logs again, lay down, and went off to sleep by the side of Ned. It was
getting dark when he awoke. Ned was awake, and was sitting up by his side.
Outside, the din of battle, the ceaseless crack of the rifle, and the roar
of cannon was going on as usual, without interruption.

"How do you feel now, Ned?" Dick asked.