“Colonel Clark!” Pa exclaimed. “So you’re a colonel now, sir.”
The colonel seemed not to have heard Pa’s exclamation. He shook his head gravely. “This Indian situation is bad. They’re more stirred up than ever this season.”
Pa bristled. “There’s no Indians going to scare me off my land. I got a good warm cabin and quite a few acres cleared. I’m staying.”
Colonel Clark nodded and smiled. “I like your spirit, Hudson, but if I were you, I’d take my family and crops up to Harrodsburg. Stay there until these Indians quiet down a little.”
Pa shook his head. “I mean to stay, sir. I got through last winter all right. We’ve never been molested.”
Colonel Clark put his hand on Pa’s shoulder. “We could use more brave men like you out here, Hudson, but the Indians are really on the warpath now. I can’t prove it, but I hear Hamilton’s paying the Indians for all of the prisoners they deliver to him at Detroit—paying them well, too.”
“Hamilton? Who’s he, sir?”
“The British commander in charge of all the western country, stationed at Detroit. I hear he’s got the Indians really aroused. Better take your family to Harrodsburg for a while.”
Pa scratched his ear. “Harrodsburg? That’s a far piece from here. Why not to McClellan’s Fort?”
The colonel looked grim. “Haven’t you heard, Hudson? Burned out by the Indians early this year.”