“No, I thank you,” said Joe; “my time’s not come yet; and when it does come, I’ll know what to do without your instructions. I’m well now—I never felt better in my life, only when I was eating.”
“Go to the horses, Joe, and see if they have suffered any injury,” said Glenn. “I don’t believe a single Indian was killed by the explosion,” he continued, addressing Boone.
“The snow may have preserved them,” replied Boone; “and yet,” he continued, “I am sure I saw some of them flying up in the air.”
“I saw them too,” said Glenn, “but I have known instances of the kind, when powder-mills have blown up, where men were thrown a considerable distance without being much injured.”
“It answered our purpose, at all events,” said Boone, “for now, no inducement whatever can ever bring them back”
“If I were sure of that,” replied Glenn, “I would not regret the bloodless result of the explosion.”
“You may rely upon it implicitly,” said Boone; “for it was a surprise they can never understand, and they will attach to it some superstitious interpretation, which will most effectually prevent them from meditating another attack”
“Goodness gracious alive!” exclaimed Joe, nimbly springing past Boone and Glenn, and rushing into the house.
“What can be the matter with the fellow, now?” exclaimed Glenn.
“He was alarmed at something in the stable—see what it is, Sneak,” said Boone.