“Yes, they are what God made them. They eat men, indeed, as we eat mutton, not out of malice, but because they are hungry and like that kind of food.”
“Wouldn’t you kill dem?”
“Yes, if they came in my way and endangered my life, or that of others, or if I needed them—not otherwise.”
While they talked they reached the boats and embarked safely without further sight of the red men, and they began to anticipate with delight the substantial supper they should make an hour or so later in some secure spot on the coast.
“We made one great mistake in not inquiring of the Indians something about the country, and whether we are near any white settlement,” said Captain Meinhold. “They might have saved us several days’ journey by heading us the right way.”
“Yes—that was a mistake,” replied Buffalo Bill; “but I think we are going to have an opportunity of correcting it. Look at the canoes coming around yonder point.”
True enough. The red men were coming. There was no escaping that conclusion, nor avoiding them, if they had any evil design.
“Here they are!” exclaimed Hare, in great alarm, for he had from the first refused to believe anything good of the savages. According to his views they were all treacherous, crafty, cruel, and, in short, utterly depraved. “We are all lost, I say, unless we can frighten them off, but I suppose Cody would like to try a little ‘moral suasion’ upon them.”
The village which Congo had visited was north of the spot where the white party had landed, but not very near the coast, having been built in the shelter of a piece of woodland which did not extend to the shore.
In resuming their voyage northward—for in this direction they were almost certain they should find their friends—they were compelled to pass the Indian settlement, but they had designed to do so out of gunshot of the shore, and were making their way outward for this purpose when the pursuit was discovered.