Soon it began to be noised abroad that the strangers had been sent by Government to endeavour to bring about, if possible, a more friendly state of feeling between the Whites and the Indians by means of presents, and promises, and fair speeches.

The party remained all night in the block-house, and ere long it was reported that Joe Blunt had been requested, and had consented, to be the leader and chief of a party of three men who should visit the neighbouring tribes of Indians to the west and north of the valley as Government agents.  Joe’s knowledge of two or three different Indian dialects, and his well-known sagacity, rendered him a most fitting messenger on such an errand.  It was also whispered that Joe was to have the choosing of his comrades in this mission, and many were the opinions expressed and guesses made as to who would be chosen.

That same evening Dick Varley was sitting in his mother’s kitchen cleaning his rifle.  His mother was preparing supper, and talking quietly about the obstinacy of a particular hen that had taken to laying her eggs in places where they could not be found.  Fan was coiled up in a corner sound asleep, and Crusoe was sitting at one side of the fire looking on at things in general.

“I wonder,” remarked Mrs. Varley, as she spread the table with a pure white napkin—­“I wonder what the sodgers are doin’ wi’ Joe Blunt.”

As often happens when an individual is mentioned, the worthy referred to opened the door at that moment and stepped into the room.

“Good e’en t’ye, dame,” said the stout hunter, doffing his cap, and resting his rifle in a corner, while Dick rose and placed a chair for him.

“The same to you, Master Blunt,” answered the widow; “you’ve jist comed in good time for a cut o’ venison.”

“Thanks, mistress; I s’pose we’re beholden to the silver rifle for that.”

“To the hand that aimed it, rather,” suggested the widow.

“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 again for a twelvemonth—­”

“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 Redskins 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 Redskins without gifts.”