"They were dead, of course. There was no mutilation about them, only just enough to show who killed them. If the Indians had got hold of them before they were dead, then you might have expected something. They would have just thrown themselves to show how much agony they could put them to. I never want to fall into the hands of the Indians alive. Do you know that the soldiers always carry a derringer in their pockets? Yes, they do, and that last shot is intended for themselves."
"By George!" said Tom, drawing a long breath. "Let us get out of here."
"Where will we go?"
"Let's go back to the States. I never was made to live out here."
"Hi yah! I couldn't make a living there."
"But you talk well enough to make a living anywhere. You won't find one man in ten out here who talks as plainly as you do."
"That's all owing to my way of bring up. Ever since I was a little kid I have been under the care of Uncle Ezra, who talks about as plain as most men do."
"Well, let's go and see him."
"We'll go just as soon as this blizzard is over. It is coming now, and in a few minutes you will see my horse coming in here."
"Is that the blizzard? Why, I thought it was snow."