“Nay, then, say raither to the dog that turned it,” said Dick Varley. “But for Crusoe that buck would ha’ bin couched in the woods this night.”
“Oh! if it comes to that,” retorted Joe, “I’d lay it to the door o’ Fan, for if she’d niver bin born nother would Crusoe. But it’s good an’ tender meat, whativer ways ye got it. Howsiver, I’ve other things to talk about jist now. Them sodgers that are eatin’ buffalo tongues up at the block-house as if they’d niver ate meat before, and didn’t hope to eat agin for a twelve-month—”
“Ay, what o’ them?” interrupted Mrs Varley; “I’ve bin wonderin’ what was their errand.”
“Of coorse ye wos, Dame Varley; and I’ve comed here a’ purpis to tell ye. They want me to go to the Red-skins to make peace between them and us; and they’ve brought a lot o’ goods to make them presents withal,—beads, an’ knives, an’ lookin’-glasses, an vermilion paint, an’ sich-like, jist as much as’ll be a light load for one horse—for, ye see, nothin’ can be done wi’ the Red-skins without gifts.”
“’Tis a blessed mission,” said the widow, “I wish it may succeed. D’ye think ye’ll go?”
“Go? ay, that will I.”
“I only wish they’d made the offer to me,” said Dick with a sigh.
“An’ so they do make the offer, lad. They’ve gin me leave to choose the two men I’m to take with me, and I’ve comed straight to ask you. Ay or no, for we must up an’ away by break o’ day to-morrow.”
Mrs Varley started. “So soon?” she said, with a look of anxiety.
“Ay; the Pawnees are at the Yellow Creek jist at this time, but I’ve heer’d they’re ’bout to break up camp an’ away west; so we’ll need to use haste.”