“I thought of that,” said Earth;—“there is peace, 'tis true; but, Rolfe, you see what sort of a peace 'tis. Were we to show ourselves, instead of getting the maiden, we should have our scalps taken off. They have done this to pay for some murder committed on 'em, and it must lead to war, and sooner than we wish, if we are to remain long on this side of the river; but if they carry her to 'Cumseh's camp, we may venture, and if he be present, perhaps we may succeed.”
“Then,” said Rolfe, “let us follow for a time, and see where they are going.”
“Agreed,” said Earth.
Suffering the Indians to advance for some distance, the hunters crawled up to the fire which they had left, and there remained until the party dwindled down to a few dark spots on the surface of the prairie; when, rising up, they followed fearlessly on their trail.
“How beautiful are these plains,” said Rolfe. “Earth, do you blame the Indians for not surrendering them?”
“No, I cannot say that I do: nor do I blame the whites for endeavouring to take them away.”
“Why? are not the Indians the rightful owners, and have not their fathers owned them time out of mind?”
“Rolfe, it will not do to argue this matter: we have treated the Ingens so badly, that we cannot now live in peace, but are obliged to add insult to injury. You know I've a great many grudges agin 'em, and use them up on all occasions, for I well know they would have killed me long before this, if they had had a good chance.”
“And because you have treated them badly, you think you ought to kill them? Is that your argument?”
“No, I never argue about it; if one comes near me, and he gives me a cause, I'm very apt to kill him. Somehow or other it is bred in me, and I hate them; for you see they are always straggling along the frontiers, and committing murders.”