"Seen any signs o' redskins?"
"No, sir. Have you seen any?"
"That's for the King to say," replied the hunter, laughing in apparent heartiness, though no sound escaped his lips.
The expression, "that's for the King to say," was one that fell so frequently from the lips of Sam Oliver that both boys understood what he meant. It was his method of evading a direct reply to any question he did not wish to answer.
"All of which means," said James, "that you have seen some redskins."
"A few signs. Nothing very bad, and nothing that should be spoken of by either of you. In course we are bound to find the varmints following us, but I don't think they will attack us if we are on our guard. We must do our best, and after that there is no good in trying to do anything more. Your father says everything that happens is right, or it wouldn't be. Strange," he added, as he again looked at the panther's skin which James Boone was carrying, "strange that you should have got him so easy. I have known the time when it would have taken half-dozen bullets to put an end to a fighting painter."
"Have you shot a good many of them?" inquired Peleg.
"Oh, a few, a few," replied the hunter. "The strangest sight I ever see was one time when I was followin' three o' the varmints. They led me a hard chase, and it was two days before I caught up with them, and when I did, I almost wished I had not."
"Why?"
"I will tell you. When I came near a big open space there in the woods I heard the worst screechin' I ever heard in my life. You simply cannot describe it. They were snarlin' and spittin' and screamin' and growlin', and sometimes it seemed as if they were doin' all four things at once. My first thought was that this was no place for Sam Oliver. It sounded like a hundred painters were fightin' to the death. I reckon I did turn back a little way, but the screechin' and the screamin' kep' up so that I finally decided that I must find out what was goin' on."