Читать книгу The Trail of Black Hawk онлайн
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“Boys sleep long,” said Deerfoot, when he had come to the place where they were seated.
“Yes, Deerfoot,” agreed Joseph. “We were very tired.”
“Me catch fish and duck,” said the Indian.
“So we see,” laughed Joseph. “How did you do it?”
“Fish with hook. Duck with snare. How you s’pose?”
“I didn’t know,” replied Joseph meekly. He considered Deerfoot’s reply a rebuke, for evidently the Indian took it for granted that he should know how the game had been captured. The Pottowattomie did not care for useless questions.
“Did you see anything of Black Hawk?” asked Robert.
“No see him,” replied Deerfoot, who at once began the work of cleaning the fish he had caught. Robert asked no more questions and as Deerfoot did not offer to tell how he had captured the second scalp, the matter was evidently closed, at least for the present. Both boys were burning with curiosity, but to no purpose. Some day perhaps, if Deerfoot felt so inclined, he would tell them all about his exploit, but this he apparently did not consider the proper time to do so.