The other spread with skins of varmints:
Dried pumpkins overhead were strung,
Where venison hams in plenty hung;
Two rifles placed above the door;
Three dogs lay stretched upon the floor,—
In short, the domicile was rife
With specimens of Hoosier life.”
“Hoosieroons” is never heard now, and was probably invented by Finley for the sake of the rhyme. Both Governor Wright and O. H. Smith were of the opinion that “Hoosier” was a corruption of “Who’s here” (yere or hyer) and Smith[9] has sought to dramatize its history:—
“The night was dark, the rain falling in torrents, when the inmates of a small log cabin in the woods of early Indiana were aroused from their slumbers by a low knocking at the only door of the cabin. The man of the house, as he had been accustomed to do on like occasions, rose from his bed and hallooed, ‘Who’s here?’ The outsiders answered, ‘Friends, out bird-catching. Can we stay till morning?’ The door was opened, and the strangers entered. A good log fire soon gave light and warmth to the room. Stranger to the host: ‘What did you say when I knocked?’ ‘I said, Who’s here?’ ‘I thought you said Hoosier.’ The bird-catchers left after breakfast, but next night returned and hallooed at the door, ‘Hoosier;’ and from that time the Indianians have been called Hoosiers.”
This is the explanation usually given to inquirers within the State. The objection has sometimes been raised to this story, that the natural reply to a salutation in the wilderness would be “Who’s there?” out of which “Hoosier” could hardly be formed; but careful observers of Western and Southern dialects declare that “Who’s hyer?” was, and in obscure localities remains, the common answer to a midnight hail.