"Let me tell you a story now," said Thomas Lincoln.
"Of course you will," said Aunt Indiana. "Thomas Lincoln never heard a story told without telling another one to match it; and Abe, here, is just like him. The thing that has been, is, as the Scriptur' says."
AN ASTONISHED INDIAN.
"Well," said Thomas Lincoln, "I hain't no faith at all, elder, in Injuns. I once knew of a woman in Kentuck, in my father's day, who knew enough for 'em, and the way that she cleared 'em out showed an amazin' amount of spirit. Women was women in Daniel Boone's time, in old Kentuck. The Injuns found 'em up and doin', and they learned to sidle away pretty rapid-like when they met a sun-bonnet.
"Well, as I was sayin', this was in my father's time. The Injuns were prowlin' about pretty plenty then, and one day one of 'em came, all feathers and paint, and whoops and prancin's, to a house owned by a Mr. Daviess, and found that the man of the house was gone.
"But the wimmin-folks were at home—Mrs. Daviess and the children. Well, the Injun came on like a champion, swingin' his tommyhawk and liftin' his heels high. The only weapon that the good woman had was a bottle of whisky.
"Well, whisky is a good weapon sometimes—there's many a man that has found it a slow gunpowder. Well, this woman, as I was sayin', had her wits about her. What do you think that she did?
"Well, she just brought out the whisky-bottle, and held it up before him—so. It made his eyes sparkle, you may be sure of that!
"'Fire-water,' said she, 'mighty temptin'.
"'Ugh!' said the Indian, all humps and antics and eyes.