where the latter had been captured.  Having returned, the scout knew that the only possible explanation for the absence of the ladies was Indians, although no peril could have been more unexpected.  He had discovered by “the sign” that it was a large band traveling eastward.  He had set out by night to get ahead of them while Hare and his other guide started for the fort.  Binkus knew every mile of the wilderness and had canoes hidden near its bigger waters.  He had crossed the lake on which his party had been camping, and the swamp at the east end of it and was soon far ahead of the marauders.  A little after daylight, he had picked up the boy, Jack Irons, at a hunting camp on Big Deer Creek, as it was then called, and the two had set out together to warn the people in Horse Valley, where Jack lived, and to get help for a battle with the savages.

It will be seen by his words that Mr. Binkus was a man of imagination, but—­again he is talking.

“I were on my way to a big Injun Pow-wow at Swegache fer Sir Bill—­ayes it were in Feb’uary, the time o’ the great moon o’ the hard snow.  Now they be some good things ’bout Injuns but, like young brats, they take natural to deviltry.  Ye may have my hide fer sole luther if ye ketch me in an Injun village with a load o’ fire-water.  Some Injuns is smart, an’ gol ding their pictur’s! they kin talk like a cat-bird.  A skunk has a han’some coat an’ acts as cute as a kitten but all the same, which thar ain’t no doubt o’ it, his friendship ain’t wuth a dam.  It’s a kind o’ p’ison.  Injuns is like skunks, if ye trust ’em they’ll sp’ile ye.  They eat like beasts an’ think like beasts, an’ live like beasts, an’ talk like angels.  Paint an’ bear’s grease, an’ squaw-fun, an’ fur, an’ wampum, an’ meat, an’ rum, is all they think on.  I’ve et their vittles many a time an’ I’m obleeged to tell ye it’s hard work.  Too much hair in the stew!  They stick their paws in the pot an’ grab out a chunk an’ chaw it an’ bolt it, like a dog, an’ wipe their hands on their long hair.  They brag ‘bout the power o’ their jaws, which I ain’t denyin’ is consid’able, havin’ had an ol’ buck bite off the top o’ my left ear when I were tied fast to a tree which—­you hear to me—­is a good time to learn Injun language ’cause ye pay ’tention clost.  They ain’t got no heart er no mercy.  How they kin grind up a captive, like wheat in the millstuns, an’ laugh, an’ whoop at the sight o’ his blood!  Er turn him into smoke an’ ashes while they look on an’ laugh—­by mighty!—­like he were singin’ a funny song.  They’d be men an’ women only they ain’t got the works in ’em.  Suthin’ missin’.  By the hide an’ horns o’ the devil!  I ain’t got no kind o’ patience with them mush hearts who say that Ameriky belongs to the noble red man an’ that the whites have no right to bargain fer his land.  Gol ding their pictur’s!  Ye might as well say that we hain’t no right in the woods ‘cause a lot o’ bears an’ painters got there fust, which I ain’t a-sayin’ but what bears an’ painters has their rights.”