"I am told," suggested the colonel, "that they will put every prisoner to death, or so many of them as may be required to make good any loss they themselves have had."
The great scout shook his head as he replied: "The Indians have not lost as many as we."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because the advantage was all with them. They greatly outnumbered us, and in a good part of the fight they were sheltered by the rocks while our men were fighting in the open. It was the bloodiest fight I was ever in."
"And to you one of the saddest," suggested the colonel.
Boone nodded his head but did not speak.
"I cannot understand," continued the colonel, "why it is that you take your own troubles so quietly. You certainly have suffered more than most men on the border, and yet I fancy the man has yet to be born who has heard you complain."
"And why should I complain?" inquired Boone, smiling as he looked into the face of his friend. "It does not make my own griefs less to try to have another share them. That is something no one can do. My heart, at least, must bear its own burden. If any one thinks that his troubles are less than those that come to his friends, he is probably mistaken. My experience has led me to believe that almost every one has about all he can bear. There are only two classes of people, at least as far as I have observed—and I am well aware how little I know in this particular—but as I said—there are only two classes of people that cry and laugh easily."
"Who are they?"