In the Days of Poor Richard | Page 3

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."
Mr. Binkus paused again to put another coal on his pipe. Then he
listened a moment and looked up at the rocks above their heads, for
they were camped in a cave at the mouth of which they had built a
small fire, in a deep gorge. Presently he went on:
"I found a heap o' Injuns at Swegache--Mohawks, Senekys, Onandogs
an' Algonks. They had been swappin' presents an' speeches with the
French. Just a little while afore they had had a bellerin' match with us
'bout love an' friendship. Then sudden-like they tuk it in their heads that
the French had a sharper hatchet than the English. I were skeered, but
when I see that they was nobody drunk, I pushed right into the big
village an' asked fer the old Senecky chief Bear Face--knowin' he were
thar--an' said I had a letter from the Big Father. They tuk me to him.
"I give him a chain o' wampum an' then read the letter from Sir Bill. It
offered the Six Nations more land an' a fort, an' a regiment to defend
'em. Then he give me a lot o' hedge-hog quills sewed on to buckskin an'
says he:
"'You are like a lone star in the night, my brother. We have stretched
out our necks lookin' fer ye. We thought the Big Father had forgot us.
Now we are happy. To-morrer our faces will turn south an' shine with
bear's grease.'
"Sez I: 'You must wash no more in the same water with the French.
You must return to The Long House. The Big Father will