“But we might approach under cover near enough—”
“Near enuf for nothin’. Thar ain’t no kiver in that quarter, as I kin see from hyur; an’ to cut acrosst the purairia, ’ud be to go strait sartint inter the teeth o’ them squallin’ skunks. Thay’re boun’ to be drunk jest about this time; and whether it’s Yellur Chief’s lot or no, we’d get sharp sass from ’em. Thet ye may swar to.”
“We must do something, ’Lije. I cannot bear to think that she may be in the hands of those horrid savages, and I standing here almost within sight of her! If she be living I must rescue; and if dead, by heavens, I shall revenge her! We must do something, ’Lije! we must.”
“An’ who said we wa’n’t a go in’ to do somethin’? Not this chile, sure. Maybe I mout a said so, ef thar hed been only ole Blackedder in the scrape an’ his precious son along wi’ him, an’ along wi’ both thet scoundrel o’ a overseeur, Sam Snively. But the gurl—she’s diff’rent; an’ I feel as desprit on doin’ somethin’ for her as you kin. F’r all thet it’s no use our doin’ what air durned foolechness. We must set ’bout this thing wi’ percaushun. Hyur you, darkey! Kin you tell how many Injuns thar war in the party thet attackted ye?”
“Dar war a big lot, massa—gobs on ’em; I’se sure more’n a hunder—far more’n dat.”
“Bah!” exclaimed the trapper, disappointedly. “’Tain’t no use inquirin’ o’ him. See hyur, niggur! Did you notice any o’ them as ’peered to be thar leader?”
“Wha—what, massa?”
“A leeder, durn ye! A chief!”
“A chief?”
“Yes, one that war actin’ as boss, or overseer.”