“An’ where’s y’r comrades, Joe Farley an’ that young Wyandot?”
“Haven’t they returned?” Ross asked quickly.
“Not a bit of it. We hain’t seen n’r heard nothin’ of any of you, till this minute.”
“Then I fear they’re dead, or prisoners among the Winnebagoes.”
And Douglas gave his companion a brief account of the battle and subsequent events. However, he said nothing of his own wonderful experience while a prisoner, made no mention of Bradford or of La Violette. When he had finished his short recital, he asked in as careless a tone as he could assume:
“How have things gone in my absence, Pritchard?”
“Much better’n they have with you,” was the rejoinder, “judgin’ from y’r looks. You’re ragged and hungry-lookin’—an’ that surly bloodhound o’ yours looks all fagged out, too. I take it you’ve had a purty rough-an’-tumble time of it. Campaignin’ ’g’inst Injins ain’t no holiday, I guess. You’d better go right down to my shack, an’ git somethin’ to eat; an’ then take a sleep fer a week ’r so. Go on—you know where I live. The ol’ woman ’ll fill you up on the fat o’ the land. She alluz did have a soft place in her heart, fer you an’ y’r dog.
“But you haven’t told me the news of the settlement,” Ross objected.
“The news ’ll keep,” Pritchard returned. “Anyhow, ther’ ain’t much to tell. Some new settlers has come in; an’ some o’ the old ones has left. Ol’ Sam Larkin was the biggest s’rprise to us.”—Ross pricked up his ears.—“He sold out an’ left—le’s see. It was in October after you left in August. Took everybody by s’rprise—that’s a fact. He had one o’ the best an’ biggest pieces o’ land ’long the valley—as you know—an’ plenty o’ money; but somehow he wasn’t satisfied. Some folks says his title to the land wasn’t clear. I don’t know. Anyhow he jest sold off everything fer what it would bring, an’ skipped out. Some feller from down ’bout the Ohio bought the land—but he hain’t moved onto it yit. Well, I must be moseyin’ to work. You go on down to the cabin.”