“I des they’re blind, they’re so hard o’ hearin’!”
“Your father,” said the mother, impressively, “has been shot at by the Indians, and came very near being killed, and you ought to keep more quiet.”
“Did they kill you, daddy?” asked Bub, who now stood at his father’s knee, his blue eyes wide with wonder; “tause, if they did, I’ll stick my big stick into their backs.”
There was a suppressed tittering at this, for which the children felt half ashamed, considering the startling intelligence they had just heard. 50
“Mother was afraid you’d have trouble with the Indians,” observed Tom, “and she was so much worried that she didn’t sleep last night.”
“Why, the Indians haven’t been doing any mischief about here–have they?” asked his father.
“No,” replied Tom, “and I told mother that there wasn’t any danger.”
But the venison was filling the cabin with its savory smell, and Mrs. Jones said,–
“Hurry, children, and get washed and dressed for breakfast.”
And going to the basin, which was in its place on the wash-bench outside the door, with much discussion as to who should have the first chance, hands and faces were treated to a hasty bath.