“Yes, and he may wait too long.”
“You can’t tell father there is any danger, though.”
“I know it,” agreed Robert. “He holds all Indians in contempt and thinks they’re all bad. Why, he hardly treats even Deerfoot like a human being.”
“Deerfoot knows it, too. I don’t think he likes father, and if it wasn’t for the rest of us he wouldn’t be half so friendly.”
“He likes us all right, and he’s been awfully good to you and me.”
“He certainly has,” exclaimed Joseph eagerly. “Personally, I think he’d warn us if he knew that Black Hawk and his band were coming this way.”
“But he might not know it.”
“I know,” protested Robert, “but you must remember that in this case it is Indian against Indian. The Sac tribe is just as clever as the Pottowattomie, and old Black Hawk is no fool. You don’t suppose he’d go around telling everybody just where he intended to strike first, do you?”
“Perhaps not.”
“Perhaps not,” exclaimed Robert. “You mean certainly not, I guess. If I intended to attack you, you don’t think for an instant that I’d go around telling everybody, do you? If I did, some one would be sure to tell you, and what chance then would I have of being successful?”