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Updated: June 4, 2025
"One of the red reptiles has found our trail," Peter said. "He's with a party of whites, and they've shouted the news to the gang in the clearing. Waal, we may, calculate we've got thirty on our trail, and, as we can hear them all round, it'll be a sarcumstance if we git out with our sculps." As they ran they heard shouts from those behind, answered by others on both flanks.
"War Eagle never lies." "You may not lie, chief," Pearson said bluntly, "but I've known many a treaty broken afore now. You and your people may not touch us, but there's other redskins about, and I wouldn't give a beaver's skin for our sculps ef we were to take the back trail to the settlements without arms in our hands.
"Has he?" said Polly Ann, with brave indifference. "He met a gal on the trail a blazin' fine gal," said Chauncey Dike. "She was goin' to Kaintuckee. And Tom he 'lowed he'd go 'long." Polly Ann laughed, and fingered the withered pieces of skin at Chauncey's girdle. "Did Tom give you them sculps?" she asked innocently. Chauncey drew up stiffly. "Who? Tom McChesney?
He instantly checked his horse, and waited for him to come up. "Do you know," struck in Mickey, "that I belaved in Misther Barnwell till we reached Kansas City? There we met people that had been all through this country and that knew all about it, and every one of the spalpeens told us that we'd lose our sculps if we comed on.
Drawing me to her, she said, "I'll take you, too, Davy." "When you marry that wuthless Tom McChesney," said her grandfather, testily. "He's not wuthless," said Polly hotly, "he's the best man in Rutherford's army. He'll git more sculps then any of 'em, you see." "Tavy is ein gut poy," Hans put in, for he had recovered his composure. "I wish much he stay mit me."
I'm just back from Fort Pitt," I said. He halted and leaned on his rifle and stared at me with lack-luster eyes, and in a monotonous voice said: "Ed Sharpe, Dick Stanton, Eph Drake an' Bill Harrel are scoutin' the head o' Powell's Valley. Wanted me to go but the signs wa'n't promisin' 'nough. Logan says he'll take ten sculps for one.
"Has he?" said Polly Ann, with brave indifference. "He met a gal on the trail a blazin' fine gal," said Chauncey Dike. "She was goin' to Kaintuckee. And Tom he 'lowed he'd go 'long." Polly Ann laughed, and fingered the withered pieces of skin at Chauncey's girdle. "Did Tom give you them sculps?" she asked innocently. Chauncey drew up stiffly. "Who? Tom McChesney?
Over this are traces of a medallion, probably of porphyry, now removed. The seventeenth has the heads of animals: lion, bear, wolf, and so forth, including the griffin each with its prey. The eighteenth has eight stone-carving saints, some with a piece of coloured marble, all named, and all at work: S. Simplicius, S. Symphorian, who sculps a figure, S. Claudius, and others.
I wish the devils had every one of your fat sculps. Polly Ann, water the nags." Hans replied to this sally with great vigor, lapsing into Dutch. Polly Ann led the scrawny ponies to the trough, but her eyes snapped with merriment as she listened. She was a wonderfully comely lass, despite her loose cotton gown and poke-bonnet and the shoepacks on her feet.
I was no novice in Indian warfare, but in this instance I scarcely believed the Shawnees would draw near enough to make the chase interesting. So far as I could observe Cousin had succeeded in stealing away from them, and there was no Indian who could overtake him, especially if he ran at my stirrup. "They've took four sculps on this side the valley," he murmured as he loped along at my side.
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