Sometimes Boone went over to Cape Girardeau, and sat with his friends talking over old times.
"Do you remember, Dan," Phillips would say, "when we had you prisoner at Detroit? You remember the British traders gave you a horse and saddle and Black Fish adopted you, and you and he made an agreement you would lead him to Boonsboro and make them surrender and bury the tomahawk, and live like brothers and sisters?"
"Yes, I remember," said Boone, smiling at the recollection of those arts of subterfuge.
"Do you remember one warm day when Black Fish said, 'Dan, the corn is in good roasting ears. I would like to have your horse and mine in good condition before we start to Boonsboro. We need a trough to feed them in. I will show you a big log that you can dig out.' Black Fish led you to a big walnut log. You worked a while and then lay down. Black Fish came and said, 'Well, Dan, you haven't done much.'
"'No,' you answered, 'you and your squaw call me your son, but you don't love me much. When I am at home I don't work this way,—I have negroes to work for me.'
"'Well,' said Black Fish, 'come to camp and stay with your brothers.'"
Quietly the two old men chuckled together. Boone always called Black Fish, father, and when he went hunting brought the choicest bit to the chief.
But now Boone's visits to Girardeau were made with a purpose.
"What is Tecumseh doing?"
"Tecumseh? He says no tribe can sell our lands. He refuses to move out of Ohio."