“Well,” said Colonel Bruce, “if it must be, it must, and I’m not the brute to say ‘No’ to you.  But lord, Captain, I should be glad to have you stay a month or two, war it only to have a long talk about my old friend, the brave old major.  And thar’s your sister, Captain,—­lord, sir, she would be the pet of the family, and would help my wife teach the girls manners.  Lord!” he continued, laughing, “you’ve no idea what grand notions have got into the old woman’s head about the way of behaving, ever since it war that the Governor of Virginnie sent me a cunnel’s commission.  She thinks I ought to w’ar a cocked hat and goold swabs, and put on a blue coat instead of a leather shirt; but I wonder how soon I’d see the end of it, out h’yar in the bushes?  And then, as for the girls, why thar’s no end of the lessons she gives them;—­and thar’s my Jenny,—­that’s the youngest,—­came blubbering up the other day, saying, ’she believed mother intended even to stop their licking at the sugar-troughs, she was getting so great and so proud!’ Howsomever, women will be women, and thar’s the end of it.”

To this philosophic remark the officer of inferior degree bowed acquiescence, and recalling his host’s attention to the subject of most interest to himself, requested to be informed what difficulties or dangers might be apprehended on the further route to the Falls of Ohio.

“Why, none on ’arth that I know of,” said Bruce; “you’ve as cl’ar and broad a trace before you as man and beast could make—­a buffalo-street,[2] through the canes; and, when thar’s open woods, blazes as thick as stars, and horse-tracks still thicker:  thar war more than a thousand settlers have travelled it this year already.  As for danngers, Captain, why I reckon thar’s none to think on.  Thar war a good chance of whooping and howling about Bear’s Grass, last year, and some hard fighting; but I h’ar nothing of Injuns thar this y’ar.  But you leave some of your people h’yar:  what force do you tote down to the Falls to-morrow?”

[Footnote 2:  The bison-paths when very broad, were often thus called.]

“Twenty-seven guns in all:  but several quite too young to face an enemy.”

“Thar’s no trusting to years in a matter of fighting!” said the Kentuckian.  “Thar’s my son Tom, that killed his brute at fourteen; but, I remember, I told you that story.  Howsomever, I hold thar’s no Injuns on the road; and if you should meet any, why, it will be down about Bear’s Grass, or the Forks of Salt, whar you can keep your eyes open, and whar the settlements are so thick, it is easy taking cover.  No, no, Captain, the fighting this year is all on the north side of Kentucky.”

“Yet, I believe,” said Roland, “there have been no troubles there since the defeat of Captain Estill on Little Mountain, and of Holder at that place,—­what do you call it?”

“Upper Blue Licks of Licking,” said Bruce; “and war’nt they troubles enough for a season?  Two Kentucky captains (and one of them a south-side man, too,) whipped in fa’r fight, and by nothing better than brutish Injuns!”