“A thousand thanks,” returned the wounded man, pressing the hand of the other as much as his strength would permit, and accompanying it with a look of gratitude more eloquent than words:  “A thousand thanks, sir, for your timely shot, and subsequent kindness and interest in behalf of one you know not, but who will ever remember you with gratitude.”

“See here, stranger, I reckon you’ve not been long in these parts?”

“But a few days, sir.”

“And you’ve come from a good ways east o’ the Alleghanies?”

“I have.”

“I knew it.  I’d have bet Betsey agin a bushel of corn, and that’s large odds you know, that such war the fact, from the particular trouble you’ve taken to thank me for doing the duty of a man.  Let me assure you, stranger, that you’re in a country now whar equality exists; and whar one man’s just as good as another, provided he is no coward, and behaves himself as he should do; and whether stranger or not, is equally entitled to the assistance of his fellows; perticularly when about being treed by such a sneaking varmint as that lying yonder.  Besides, I don’t want any body to thank me for shooting Indians; for I always do it, whensomever I get a chance, as Betsey would tell you, ef she could speak English; for somehow thar’s no perticular agreement atween us, unless it’s for each to make the most he can off the other; and so far I reckon thar’s a ballance in my favor, though the wretches are ever trying desperate hard to get even.  But come, stranger, it won’t do for you to be lying thar with that hole in your side; and so just have patience a minute, till I’ve secured the top-knot of this beauty here, and then I’ll assist you down to yonder cabin, whar I doubt not you’ll be well cared for.”

As he spoke, the old woodsman rose to his feet, drew his knife, and turning to the dead Indian, to the surprise of the other, who was but little familiar with Kentucky customs of that day, deliberately took off the scalp, which he attached to his belt;[1] and then spurning the body with his foot, he muttered:  “Go, worthless dog! and fill the belly of some wolf! and may your cowardly companion be soon keeping you company.”  Then, as he turned to the other, and noticed his look of surprise, he added:  “Well, stranger, I reckon this business looks a little odd to you, coming from away beyond the mountains as you do.”

“Why, if truth must be told, I confess it does,” answered the other.

“Don’t doubt it, stranger; but you’ll do it yourself afore you’ve wintered here two seasons.”

“I must beg leave to differ with you on that point.”

“Well, well, we’ll not quarrel about it—­it arn’t worth while; but ef you stay here two year, without scalping a red-skin and perhaps skinning one, I’ll agree to pay you for your time in bar-skins at your own valuation.”

“I am much obliged to you for the offer,” answered the young man—­a faint smile lighting his pale features; “but I think it hardly probable I shall remain in the country that length of time.”