“No more than right,” said Kendrick, heartily. “I heerd the other day that Girty got some corn-juice from a flat-boat that he captivated on the Ohio.”
“Wah! it is good. The Shawnee brave is to have corn-juice in payment for his service.”
“Wal, corn-juice ain’t bad to take when it’s good,” said Kendrick, reflectively.
“It is good!” replied the warrior, decidedly.
“I wish my wigwam wasn’t so far off,” said Kendrick, with a sly look into the Indian’s bronzed features as he spoke.
“Why does my brother wish that?” asked the chief.
“Wal I feel thirsty, and I’ve got some of the best corn-juice that you ever see’d in my wigwam, and I’m too ’tarnal lazy to go after it.”
“It is bad,” said the warrior, slowly, looking askance at the renegade.
“If my brother did not have to watch the wigwam he could go for the corn-juice and we would drink it together.”
“My brother speaks straight.”