human
The Whirlwind has killed his last man! the youth resumed, as the barrel crept up to a level with the renegade's breast.
gpt
He will never press the grass trails again with his moccasins, and the white women will sleep in peace with their papooses at their side. Parquatin's blood must flow over the Whirlwind's; the new moon must smile upon his carcass.
human
Shoot and be done with it! Girty said, without a quiver of the muscles.
gpt
I am in your power, and as every man can't live over the time which has been marked out for him, I am not going to play the baby here.