We disregard ceremony, George.
Why, what are you made of Rachel Dyer....
Of earth, George.
Not of common earth....
George Burroughs!
But of a truth now, are you not afraid of a call some one of these dark nights from a stray savage, a Pequod, or a Mohawk—or an Iroquois?
She smiled.
Are you not? We are at open war now with half the tribes of the North.
No ... and why should I be? I know them all and they know that Elizabeth and I are what they call poo-ka-kee....
Poor quakers, hey?...