"Or Smoke-creek Sam!" I could not help replying.
"All, heap same. Pah-ute as bad, only Smoky-creek Sam some worse."
Without pausing to discuss his exceeding Irish summary of the merits of the original tribe, and those who had absconded or been expelled from it, we immediately returned to our camp, being joined upon our way by Butch' Hasbrouck, who had also detected the same camp-fires.
"How far off, Butch', did you believe the red-skins were?"
"Ten miles will bring yer to 'em."
"He right!" sententiously observed the Indian who had accompanied me.
My estimate of the distance agreed with theirs, and upon our reaching the camp, the Rangers immediately took to their saddles, and Captain Smith ordered his men to mount. While they were doing this the red-skin addressed me, saying:
"Give Shoshonee John a gun, to help shoot heap Pah-utes."
"How do I know you will?"