"But to come back to where we started from," went on Dave. "There is a difference between being a white man's slave and being an Indian captive. The whites don't kill their slaves or torture them."
"They torture some of 'em," replied Henry. "I've seen a negro whipped till it made my blood boil. Of course the majority of 'em are treated fairly good."
"A darkey who has a good home on the plantation has nuthin' to complain on," said Barringford. "His master feeds him, clothes him, and takes care of him when he's sick. In nine cases out of ten he's better off nor he would be if he had to shift fer himself."
"I shouldn't wonder if we had trouble some day over this slave question," came from Henry. "If they bring too many over, the slaves may rise up some day and try to wipe the whites out."
"Don't you fear for thet, Henry; they ain't equal to it, nohow."
"But if they join with the Injuns?"
"They'll never do thet nuther, an' you know it. A good darky ain't got no opinion at all o' a redskin—they hate 'em wuss nor p'ison."
How long the fruitless discussion might have lasted there is no telling, but during a brief pause Henry chanced to glance across the prairie and uttered an exclamation.
"Something is moving yonder. What is it?"
Barringford leaped to his feet and gave a long, earnest look.