“Frank! d’ye think ye kin go a little furrer now?” is the interrogatory put by the hunter.
“Yes, Walt; miles further,” is the response. “I feel as if I could walk across the grandest spread of prairie.”
“Good!” ejaculates the guide. “I’m glad to hear you talk that way. If we kin but git a wheen o’ miles atween us an’ them yelpin’ savages, we may hev a chance o’ salvation yit. The wust o’ the thing air, that we don’t know which way to go. It’s a toss up ’tween ’em. If we turn back torst the Canadyen, we may meet ’em agin, an’ right in the teeth. Westart lies the settlement o’ the Del Nort; but we mout come on the same Injuns by goin’ that direckshun. I’m not sartin they’re Tenawas. Southart this Staked Plain hain’t no endin’ till ye git down to the Grand River below its big bend, an’ that ain’t to be thort o’. By strikin’ east, a little southart, we mout reach the head sources o’ the Loozyany Red; an’ oncest on a stream o’ runnin’ water, this child kin generally navigate down it, provided he hev a rifle, powder, an’ a bullet or two in his pouch. Thank the Almighty Lord, we’ve stuck to your gun through the thick an’ the thin o’t. Ef we hedn’t we mout jest as well lie down agin’ an’ make a die at oncest.”
“Go which way you please, Walt; you know best. I am ready to follow you; and I think I shall be able.”
“Wal, at anyhow, we’d best be movin’ off from hyar. If ye can’t go a great ways under kiver o’ the night, I reck’n we kin put enough o’ parairia atween us an’ these Injuns to make sure agin thar spyin’ us in the mornin’. So let’s start south-eastart, an’ try for the sources o’ the Red. Thur’s that ole beauty o’ the North Star that’s been my friend an’ guide many’s the good time. Thar it is, makin’ the handle o’ the Plough, or the Great Bar, as I’ve heern that colleckshin o’ stars freekwently called. We’ve only to keep it on our left, a leetle torst the back o’ the shoulder, an’ then we’re boun’ to bring out on some o’ the head-forks o’ the Red—if we kin only last long enough to reach ’em. Darn it! thar’s no danger; an’ anyhow, thar’s no help for’t but try. Come along!”
So speaking, the guide started forward—not in full stride, but timing his pace to suit the feeble steps of his disabled comrade.