Well, I took to the forest as I say, but it was so thick and the travelling so wearisome, that I bore again to the left, and presently came out along the clearings and pasture fences.
Venturing now to travel the highway for a little way, and being stopped by nobody, I became more confident; and when I saw a woman washing clothes by the Schoharie Creek, I did not trouble to avoid her, but strode on.
She heard me coming, and looked up over her shoulder; and I saw she was a notorious slattern of the Valley, whose name, I think, was Staats, but who was commonly known as Rya's Pup.
"Aha!" says she, clearing the unkempt hair from her ratty face. "What is Forbes o' Culloden doing in Schoharie? Sure," says she, "there must be blood to sniff in the wind when a Northesk bloodhound comes here a-nosing northward!"
"Well, Madame Staats," said I calmly, "you appear to know more about Culloden than do I myself. Did that great loon, McDonald, tell you all these old-wives' tales?"
"Ho-ho!" says she, her two hands on her hips, a-kneeling there by the water's edge, "the McDonalds should know blood, too, when they smell it."
"You seem to be friends with that outlaw. And do you know where he now is?" I asked carelessly.
"If I do," says the slut, with an oath, "it is my own affair and none of the Forbes or Drogues or such kittle-cattle either;—mark that, my young cockerel, and journey about your business!"
"You are not very civil, Madame Staats."
"Why, you damned rebel," says she, "would you teach me manners?"