“We don’t go for to kill every Injun we see,” said Davis, heretofore silent. “I’m a fambly-man. I don’t want Injuns butchered here in the settlement like as Ike Crabtree done for Cherokee Billy. No sense in that.”
“That’s what I say, too,” agreed another. And this endorsement of Davis’ view became quite general. Of course I had known right along that the settlers as a whole did not look with favor upon indiscriminate slaughter of the natives. Dale nodded his approval and said:
“Well, that’s something. Only you don’t go far enough.”
Hughes angrily took up the talk, declaring:
“You cabin-men are mighty tickled to have us Injun-hating fellers come along when there’s any chance of trouble. I’ve noticed that right along.”
“Course we are, Jesse,” agreed Davis. “But that don’t mean we’re mighty glad when some of you kill a friendly Injun in the settlement and, by doing so, bring the fighting to us.”
“I ’low we’ve outstayed our welcome,” Hughes grimly continued. “You folks foller this man’s trail and it’ll lead you all to the stake. I’m moving on to-night.”
“Don’t go away mad, Jesse,” piped up old Uncle Dick. “Talk don’t hurt nothin’. Stick along an’ git your fingers into the fightin’ what’s bound to come.”
“I’m going away to kill Injuns,” was the calm reply. “That’s my business.”
“Hacker, Scott ’n’ me will go along with you,” said Runner. “Now that Howard’s Creek has got a trader to keep the Injuns off, we ain’t needed here no more.”