Читать книгу Forest Glen; or, The Mohawk's Friendship онлайн

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"Of course there wouldn't. What a fool a ranger would be to take an Indian prisoner, have to feed him and watch night and day, run the risk of his getting away, or of being killed by him in the night, and have to carry him perhaps a hundred miles to a government fort to get one hundred fifty dollars, or one hundred thirty if 'twas a woman, when he could get one hundred thirty or fifty for their sculp that are nothing to carry, and could hang fifty on 'em to your belt, and no trouble 'cept to knock 'em on the head, and take the sculp off!"

"Honeywood," continued McClure, "thinks, after hearing this news, we ought not to wait to get the harvest, but go into the garrison right off. He says, and it's a fact, that McDonald and his family were all murdered last year, just by staying out one day too long."

"Did he say where the Black Rifle was?" asked Armstrong.

"At his cave in the mountain: he's going ter stop there quite a while."

"Then we sha'n't be troubled with Indians as long as he's round."