"Good--Nick t'ought just dat. How you get him water if Injen come?"
"There's the stream, that winds round the foot of the hill, Nick, as you see; and then there is a delicious spring, within one hundred yards of the very gate."
"Which side of him?" asked Nick, with his startling rapidity.
"Why, here, to the left of the gate, and a little to the right of the large stone--"
"No--no," interrupted the Indian, "no left--no right--which side--inside gate; outside gate?"
"Oh!--the spring is outside the gate, certainly; but means might be found to make a covered way to it; and then the stream winds round directly underneath the rocks, behind the house, and wafer could be raised from that, by means of a rope. Our rifles would count for something, too, in drawing water, as well as in drawing blood."
"Good.--Rifle got long arm. He talk so, Ingin mind him. When you t'ink red-skin come ag'in your fort, cap'in, now you got him done?"
"A long time first, I hope, Nick. We are at peace with France, again; and I see no prospect of any new quarrel, very soon. So long as the French and English are at peace, the red men will not dare to touch either."
"Dat true as missionary! What a soldier do, cap'in, if so much peace? Warrior love a war-path."
"I wish it were not so, Nick. But my hatchet is buried, I hope, for ever."