“They can stand off the Injuns if white renegades don’t lend a hand and play some new deviltry. If Gineral Sinclair ’arned a lesson from Gineral Harmar’s defeat last year we’ll have peace along this river. If he gits a red ax in the head it’ll keep on being death to any one planting corn north of this river. And I’m afraid for Sinclair. Little Turtle and his Miamis are ag’in him as they was ag’in Harmar,” said Daniels.
“I don’t think this country will ever be safe for whites,” sighed Knight. “I feel faint. Wish I could eat and sleep and cross into Kentucky and make back to Richmond. I’m mortal tired of the border.”
“Make a fire and I’ll fetch in some small game,” said Daniels. “After we’ve et and rested we’ll see what fits the young man’s case best.”
He slipped into the growth and Kinsty scooped a shallow hole one side of the path and started a small blaze, feeding it with small pieces of bark until he had a deep bed of coals. Daniels came in with a turkey and some pigeons. He had knocked them over with his ax. The meat was quickly put to roasting.
Knight discovered he was ravenously hungry. He could not wait for the meat to be cooked through. He snatched a turkey leg and ate like a wolf.
“Take your time and don’t wolf it in chunks,” advised Daniels.
After they had finished and covered the fire-hole with branches and dirt, with two small apertures for air, Daniels jumped to his feet and announced he would scout for a bit. Kinsty said nothing until the stranger had withdrawn; then he leaned forward and whispered—
“Wish I knew more ’bout him.”
Knight shivered at this suggestion that all might not be right with Daniels.
“He’s a white man. He didn’t have any red stripe on his back. Could he be one of the Girtys?”