Howsumever, I've knowed Injuns who are good fellows, and
there's no tellin'. What are ye goin' in fer--farmin'?"
"No, I wouldn't make a good farmer."
"Jest cum out kinder wild like, eh?" rejoined Jeff, knowingly.
"I wanted to come West because I was tired of tame life. I love the
forest; I want to fish and hunt; and I think I'd like to--to see
Indians."
"I kinder thought so," said the old frontiersman, nodding his head
as though he perfectly understood Joe's case. "Well, lad, where
you're goin' seein' Injuns ain't a matter of choice. You has to see
'em, and fight 'em, too. We've had bad times for years out here on
the border, and I'm thinkin' wuss is comin'. Did ye ever hear the
name Girty?"
"Yes; he's a renegade."
"He's a traitor, and Jim and George Girty, his brothers, are p'isin
rattlesnake Injuns. Simon Girty's bad enough; but Jim's the wust.
He's now wusser'n a full-blooded Delaware. He's all the time on the
lookout to capture white wimen to take to his Injun teepee. Simon
Girty and his pals, McKee and Elliott, deserted from that thar fort
right afore yer eyes. They're now livin' among the redskins down
Fort Henry way, raisin' as much hell fer the settlers as they kin."
"Is Fort Henry near the Indian towns?" asked Joe.
"There's Delawares, Shawnees and Hurons all along the Ohio below
Fort Henry.
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