"Tuscarora man kill Tuscarora man--good--he quarrel, and kill he enemy. But Tuscarora warrior nebber take scalp of Tuscarora squaw and pappoose! What you t'ink he do dat for? Red man no hog, to eat pork."
"It must be admitted, Nick, you are a very literal logician--'dog won't eat dog,' is our English saying. Still the Yankee will fight the Yengeese, it would seem. In a word, the Great Father, in England, has raised the hatchet against his American children."
"How you like him, cap'in--um? Which go on straight path, which go on crooked? How you like him?"
"I like it little, Nick, and wish with all my heart the quarrel had not taken place."
"Mean to put on regimentals--hah! Mean to be cap'in, ag'in? Follow drum and fife, like ole time?"
"I rather think not, old comrade. After sixty, one likes peace better than war; and I intend to stay at home."
"What for, den, build fort? Why you put fence round a house, like pound for sheep?"
"Because I intend to stay there. The stockade will be good to keep off any, or every enemy who may take it into their heads to come against us. You have known me defend a worse position than this."
"He got no gate," muttered Nick--"What he good for, widout gate? Yengeese, Yankees, red man, French man, walk in just as he please. No good to leave such squaw wid a door wide open."
"Thank you, Nick," cried Mrs. Willoughby. "I knew you were my friend, and have not forgotten the gold-thread."