Daniel Boone and Deerfoot.
It was hard to refuse, but the signs of poverty, and especially the sight of several wan faces peering through the broken windows, decided Deerfoot that it would be more considerate for them to make excuse. The presence of so many, even if divided among several households, could not but be burdensome.
But the boys dismounted and walked with Deerfoot and Boone to the cabin from which the pioneer had emerged, and found seats on the broken-down porch. The Blackfoot preferred to stay where he was and look after the horses.
The talk was one that the boys remembered all their lives. The sight of Deerfoot, who was as well known to Boone as to Kenton, seemed to warm the cockles of the pioneer’s heart, and he talked with a freedom that would have astonished his friends. Deerfoot did not hesitate to tell him of the destination of himself and boys and the long venturesome journey before them. The mild blue eyes lit up.
“I wish I could go with you!” exclaimed Boone.
“Why can’t you?” asked Deerfoot. “It will make all our hearts glad.”
The great ranger shook his head.
“No; I’m too old.”
“Why, you can’t be more than fifty, if you are that much,” said the impulsive Victor.