ation of the state of feeling among the Indians between that section and us. From your remarks, I should infer, however, that nothing very serious threatens."
"Don't know 'bout that," replied Seth, shaking his head and looking to the ground.
"Why so, my friend?"
"I tell you what, you, I heerd orful stories 'long the way. They say since this war, the darned red-coats have kept the Injins at work. Leastways it's pretty sartin they are at work anyhow."
"Are you sure?" asked the woodman, betraying an anxiety in his speech.
"Purty sure. There's a little settlement down here some miles, (I have forgot the name,) sot on by the imps, and burned all up."
"Is it possible? Reports have reached me during the past three or four months, of the deadly hostility existing between the whites and reds, but I was glad to doubt it. Although, I sometimes felt it was wrong."
"'Twas so; and if you vally that ar wife of your bussum, and your little cherubims, (as I allow you've got,) you'd better be makin' tracks for safer quarters. Why, how have you stood it so long?"
"My conduct toward the Indians has ever been characterized by honesty and good will, upon my part, and they have ever evinced a friendly feeling toward me, and my helpless ones. I place great reliance upon this state of feeling, in fact, my only reliance."
"Just so; but I tell you, it won't do to trust an Ingin. They're obstropertous. Go to put your finger on them, and they ain't thar. Jest so, by gracious."
"I fear there is too much truth in your suspicions," replied Haverland, in a saddened tone.
"I'm glad I've tumbled onto you, coz I begin to git skeerish, and I like to do a feller a good turn, and I'll stick to you, bein' I've found you."
"Thank you, friend, and let us now proceed homeward. I intended to spend the day in work, but your words have taken away all desire."
"Sorry to do it; but it's best, ain't it?"
