“Purty nigh track o’ sunken’.”
“Track of what?” demanded the captain, in a towering passion.
“Me don’t know; tink him dam Mingo,” eagerly replied the savage.
“Umph! our tracks looks a good deal alike.”
“Yeh! much like,” repeated the Indian.
“If I’s sure you were following me, Bill, I’d shoot you in a minute.”
The small restless eye of the Shawnee fairly snapped with electric blackness for an instant as he gazed at the captain; but the latter returned his look with his own glittering orbs and awed him at once.
“I hardly think you would try such a thing, because I always treated you gentlemanlike; kicking you out the house when you gave me any of you jaw, and licking you like blazes when you insulted the woman. And you chaps got such a whipping from our boys that I hardly believe you will try any of your tricks very soon again.”
“Shawnees do nothing; much ’fraid.”
“S’pose so. Come, Bill, be honest. Did the Shawnees stop a flat-boat up the river and butcher all hands?”