“Well, I’m Tom Gordon,” responded Tom, “and my brother’s name is Ben.”
“Tom and Ben, h-m! Good short, honest names, an’ easy like to ’member.”
“We’re glad you like them,” went on Tom smiling. “But as I started to ask, do you think there’ll ever be any trouble again, between the Injuns and the whites in these parts?”
“You mean the fightin’ kind o’ trouble, I s’pose,” answered Bill Brown slowly. “Well, yer askin’ me a straight question, an’ I’m givin’ you a straight answer. I reckon ther’ll be more bloodshed betwixt the reds an’ whites, an’ mebbe soon.”
“And maybe soon, you say, Mr. Brown?” exclaimed Ben, his eyes kindling with excitement.
Bill Brown suddenly stopped and frowned.
“What did you call me?” he asked.
“Why, Mr. Brown, of course.”
“Now listen, lad, I’m Mr. Brown only to them as don’t like me, an’ that I don’t like. But I was sorta figgerin’ that we was goin’ to be friends.”
“We’ll surely be friends, Bill,” chorused the two boys, with one voice.