“Delawares, Bob. Know anything about Delaware Indians?”
Scott shook his head. “Never heard of Delawares in our country. I saw a Pottawottamie Indian once, but never any Delawares. Is this story about Uncas a true story?”
“As true as any story. Listen here.” Bucks read aloud to him for a while, his companion at intervals asking questions and approving or criticising the Indian classic.
“If you could only read, Bob, you ought to read the whole book,” said Bucks regretfully, as he put the volume aside.
“I can read a little,” returned Scott, to Bucks’s 110 surprise. “All except the long words,” added the scout modestly. “A man down at Medicine Bend tried to sell me a pair of spectacles once. They had gold rims, and he told me that a man with those spectacles could read any kind of a book. He thought I was a greenhorn,” said the scout.
“Where did you learn to read?”
“A Blackrobe taught me.”
Bucks held out the book. “Then read this, Bob, sure.”
Scott looked at the worn volume, but shook his head doubtfully. “Looks like a pretty big book for me. But if you can find out whether it’s true, I might try it sometime.”
Stanley, after a few days, started up the river with Scott and Dancing, leaving his men in camp. Bucks, who was still too stiff to ride, likewise remained to receive any messages that might come.