“Well, we ought to be able to whip a thousand of the red-skins, easy,” said Boone, in a confident tone. “Do you expect any more, Jake?”
“Not above half a dozen, kurnel; we’ve drawn ’bout all our men in now,” Jackson replied.
“Set the women to running bullets, and get plenty of water inside the stockade. The red heathens may make a siege of it,” said Boone.
“Everything has been fixed, kurnel.”
“That’s pert. Now, Jake, I guess we three had better take a little rest. We’ve been everlastingly tramping through the timber. Throw out some scouts up the river to watch for the red devils. After I’ve had an hour’s nap I’ll take to the woods myself.”
Then Boone went to his cabin; he was followed by Kenton and Lark.
“I wonder what’s the matter with the stranger; did you notice how pale he looked?” Jackson said, referring to Lark.
“Wal—yes, I did,” replied one of the settlers, who stood by Jackson’s side. “I reckon they’ve had a putty tough tramp onto it. Maybe, though, some on us will look white afore we git through with Ke-ne-ha-ha and his Shawnees.”
Many an anxious face in the little group of men that surrounded Jackson testified to the truth of the speaker’s guess.
In the cabin the three scouts stretched themselves upon the bear-skins spread upon the floor, and soon were in the land of dreams.