Prevod
Prvotni lastnik otoka Deer Isle ob obali Maina — vsaj tisti, ki ga je imel v posesti pred sto tridesetimi leti — je nosil tekoče zveneče ime Swunksus. Vendar njegovo ime ni bilo edina tekoča reč v tistih krajih, kajti kjer je bil Swunksus, tudi ognjena voda ni bila daleč. Malo pred revolucijo se je na otok priselil neki bostonski odpadnik po imenu Conary in si prilastil toliko zemlje, kolikor se mu je zahotelo, a dlje ko je tam živel, več je je hotel. Swunksus je bil povsem pripravljen svoje ozemlje razdeliti z belim vsiljivcem, toda Conaryju polovica ni zadostovala. Vsega ni potreboval; preprosto hotel je vse. Poleg tega je postajal prepirljiv in je ubogega Swunksusa nenehno nadlegoval, dokler ni nazadnje Indijanca prisilil, da je sprejel izziv: ne na takojšen dvoboj, temveč na boj do smrti, če bi se še kdaj srečala.
Rdečekožec se je umaknil na svojo polovico otoka in se skril v grmovje blizu svojega doma, da bi tam pričakal belca, a v tem zavetju je odkril vrč viskija, ki ga je tja postavila bodisi usoda bodisi Conary. Še preden je minila ura, je bil »tako poln in blažen kakor polna luna ob žetvi«, in prav tedaj se je prikazal njegov sovražnik. Swunksusa ni bilo težko najti, saj je smrčal kakor megleni rog; Conary je drzno stopil k njemu in mu z nabojem svinčenih krogel odstrelil glavo. Nato je prevzel posest in živel srečno do konca svojih dni. Swunksus svojo odstavitev mirno prenaša: čeprav se je že večkrat sprehodil po obalah, njegov duh večino časa prespi, in tudi sredi belega dne je bilo iz gozdov slišati strašansko smrčanje.
Izvirnik
The original proprietor of Deer Isle, off the coast of Maine--at least, the one who was in possession one hundred and thirty years ago--had the liquid name of Swunksus. His name was not the only liquid thing in the neighborhood, however, for, wherever Swunksus was, fire-water was not far. Shortly before the Revolution a renegade from Boston, one Conary, moved up to the island and helped himself to as much of it as he chose, but the longer he lived there the more he wanted. Swunksus was willing enough to divide his domain with the white intruder, but Conary was not satisfied with half. He did not need it all; he just wanted it. Moreover, he grew quarrelsome and was continually nagging poor Swunksus, until at last he forced the Indian to accept a challenge, not to immediate combat, but to fight to the death should they meet thereafter.
The red man retired to his half of the island and hid among the bushes near his home to await the white man, but in this little fastness he discovered a jug of whiskey that either fate or Conary had placed there. Before an hour was over he was “as full and mellow as a harvest moon,” and it was then that his enemy appeared. There was no trouble in finding Swunksus, for he was snoring like a fog horn, and walking boldly up to him, Conary blew his head off with a load of slugs. Then he took possession of the place and lived happily ever after. Swunksus takes his deposition easily, for, although he has more than once paraded along the beaches, his ghost spends most of the time in slumber, and terrific snores have been heard proceeding from the woods in daylight.
