Saying this, Carrol handed the governor a stool—the furniture of his hut not boasting of a chair.
“And so you’re off to-morrow, are you?”
“Yes, I can’t stand this here idle life any longer than I’m obleeged; ’taint my sort. Give me the woods and the savanners.”
At the very thought of returning to them the backwoodsman smacked his lips.
“When did you see Oluski last?” abruptly asked Elias.
“It war a fortnight ago, governor, near as my memory sarves me; just arter I’d shot the fattest buck killed this season. Oluski’s people war all in a state o’ excitement at the time.”
“Indeed; about what?”
“Wal, Oluski’s brother, who war chief o’ another tribe, died not long ’fore, and his son, Wacora, had succeeded to the chiefship. Oluski was mighty perlite to his nephy, who war on a visit to Oluski’s town when I war thar. I expect they’ll all be hyar soon. It’s about thar time o’ comin’ to Tampa.”
“Did you see this Wacora, as you call him?”
“I did so, governor,” answered Carrol, “and a likely Injun he is.”