"No hang me—kill me?" he said, with a smile.
"No; that is not the way the Christians serve their enemies," added Mr. Jackson. "We feed them, and cure them if they are sick or wounded."
"Why did you attack us, and murder one of us?" I asked. "We have been friends."
"Indian come back and say white man kill chief. Must kill white man then."
It was the ancient philosophy of the Indians, that one injury must be repaid by another; but he entirely ignored the fact that the savages had been the aggressors. I told him of the battle of the day before; that his people had been routed with severe loss, and that they had fled to their reservation.
"Smoke pipe now; no fight again; peace always," said he.
"I hope so," I added.
"Me no fight. Me white man friend. Hunt for white man, work for white man, fight for white man; good friend always."
I think he was grateful for the favor extended to him. When the soldiers came back from the raft, four of them were directed to convey the camp bedstead on which the Indian lay to the river, and the rest carried down the remainder of Mr. Gracewood's goods. We walked down to the lower end of the island with the bearers of the bedstead. It was placed on the raft, and the other articles were stowed so as to preserve the balance of the structure.
"We are ready for a start," said Morgan. "But we ought to have a steamboat to tow the thing down."