By this time a number of other white men had come up. The old hunter insisted on making Jack known to all of them. Jack heard the names of Sam Hilliard, Job Garrard, Andrew Dye, Joshua Robbins, Daniel Cox, and several others. All of them were anxious for news in regard to the coming war, and all shook their heads dubiously when they heard that Jack proposed to go further north.
“It’s taking your life in your hands these days, youngster,” remarked Andrew Dye, a patriarchal-looking old man. “There’s ten thousand Injuns pretendin’ to be tame between here and Wapakoneta and the devil only knows how many more there are north of it. Tecumseh’s sort of civilized, but his Shawnees ain’t Tecumseh by a long shot. And them d— British are stirrin’ ’em up. Course you may get there all right, but when you go trampin’ in where angels are ’fraid to, you’re mighty apt to get turned into an angel yourself.”
“I guess I’ve got to go,” said Jack. “I want to get somebody who knows the country to go along with me.”
“What’s the matter with me?” broke in Rogers. “I ain’t a-pining to lose my scalp, but I reckon if I won’t go nobody will. And I don’t want no big pay neither. You and me’ll agree on terms mighty easy. I can take you anywhere. I know all the Injuns. Why! Lord! They call me——”
Job Garrard laughed. “Yes,” he said. “Tom can take you anywhere. Tom’s always willing to stick in. He stuck in on Judge Blank’s court down in Dayton the other day, didn’t you, Tom? Haw! Haw! Haw!”
A burst of laughter ran round the group. Everybody laughed indeed, except Tom himself. “You boys think you’re blamed funny,” he tried to interpose.
But the others would not hear him.
“Maybe you heard something about it as you come through Dayton, stranger!” said Dye. “Tom tromped right into court and he heard the judge dressin’ down two young lawyers that had got to fussin’. I reckon Tom had been a-practicin’ at another bar, for he yells out: ‘Give it to ’em, old gimlet eyes.’ The judge stops short. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked. Tom thinks he’s going to ask him upon the bench or something and he steps out an’ says: ‘It’s this yer old hoss!’ The judge he looks at him for a minute an’ then he calls the sheriff and says, ‘Sheriff, take this old hoss out and put him in a stall and lock the stable up and see that he don’t get stole before tomorrow mornin’.’ And the sheriff done it, too. Haw! Haw! Haw!”
The laughter was interrupted by the appearance of a wagon drawn by mules and driven by a man who looked neither to the right nor to the left.
Rogers, glad of any change of subject, jumped forward. “Hey!” he yelled. “What’s the news?”