Soon the knocked-down tent was raised again, and the fire stirred up. Then, as the storm, increased, all crouched in the shelters they had erected and awaited the return of Henry and the old frontiersman.
"I'd like to eat a buffalo steak now first-rate," said Dave, smacking his lips. "It would touch the spot and chase away the blues."
"Buffalo steak is rather strong, like elk's meat," answered his father.
"But we need strong food, on such a rough journey as this."
"It's a pity there isn't a better trail, father."
"Some day there will be a regular road, Dave—when there are more settlements to the westward. I look for the time when we shall have cities out here, the same as along the seaboard."
"Won't never see that," said the frontiersman named Lukins.
"Why not?" risked James Morris.
"The Injuns won't allow it, that's why, Mr. Morris. They don't mind a
tradin'-post or two, whar they kin sell hides an' git rum an' sech things.
But they don't want no towns or cities. You won't never see a city on the
Ohio, nor in them Western countries at all."
"I believe the cities are bound to come," said Dave. "As more folks come over from England, and Germany, and France, they'll be bound to spread out. The Indians won't stop 'em."
"They will if they rise an' dig up the war hatchet," put in Jadwin, the other frontiersman.