“Not a bit of it,” answered he. “Indeed, I’m firmer about it than ever. But to just make an attempt to best the Indians won’t do now; we must beat them!”
Both Eph and Sandy looked at him inquiringly.
“You say you heard something,” said Sandy Campbell. “What was it?”
“As I rode down the trail with my uncle,” said Noll, “we met Mr. Boone.”
The face of Eph Taylor took on an expression of interest.
“Oh, it was something he said, was it? Well, then, I allow it was worth listening to, for Dan’l Boone always talks as the crow flies—in a straight line.”
And then, while his two friends listened with great attention, Oliver repeated the words of the backwoodsman. When he had finished, Sandy nodded his head.
“It sounds much like the truth of the matter,” said he.
“It is the truth!” declared Eph, emphatically. “If we give these redskins a chance to crow over us in little things, they’ll think they can do it in big things. To-morrow we must take ’em in hand and give them a good thrashing—a regular good one that they’ll not forget in a hurry.”
“I’m all ready for my part of it,” grinned Sandy. “Or, at least I will be as soon as this halter’s finished. That old Soldier horse couldn’t have been better for the work if he’d been picked out of a hundred. He’s got a back as wide as a floor; and I’ve been practicing with him all summer, never thinking I’d have any use for it.”