“Don't look down hearted, strangers,” said he, “you aint among Ingins ef you are near 'em--thar aint a spot in the universal yearth calkilated to make you feel better than whar you are now. Sam and me never felt bad sence we located here,--only when the Ingins penned us in the cabin fur three days, while all our bar meat was hangin' on the outside.” “It's this cussed woman,” answered the stranger, “that makes me feel bad--she's etarnally whimperin' about bein' so fur from home--I wish she was in h--ll!” “Stop that, stranger,” said Dick, in a determined tone; “the love I have for an old Kentucky mother won't permit me to see or hear one of her sex abused beneath my cabin roof, ef it is in the wilderness,--I don't like red skins, none of 'em, but even a _squaw_ couldn't be abused here!” “Well, I'm done,” was the reply. “I'll git a cabin of my own, and then I guess I'll do as I please.” “No you won't,” said Dick; “ef you stay in these diggins and abuse her, you're in a hotter place than whar you jest now wished her.” It may be supposed that the host and his guest retired, the first night of their meeting, with no favourable impression of each other; and while Sam and his master were making all right for the night, the former ventured to remark-- “Dar aint much good in _dat_ white man, Massa Dick.” “Not a _heap_, Sam,” was his master's reply; “but he shan't pisin us long with his company;” and with this comfortable resolve they turned in for the night. At daylight Dick started out with his rifle on his arm, to observe the foot-prints around his dwelling, and note whether they were biped or quadruped, the close proximity of the Indian tribes and their frequent thefts, making caution and care necessary to preserve, not only property, but life. As he was returning to his cabin a _scream_ startled him from his careless gait--it was a new sound in that wilderness; and many a day had passed since Dick heard anything akin to it. He started forward with a bound, convulsively clutching his rifle, while his blood urged into rapid action by the movement, was again forced back to his heart, chilled by another fearful scream of a woman in distress. In a moment he emerged from the strip of woods, within view of his cabin, and there beheld the stranger with his arm raised to strike; fronting him stood Sam, poising a large hunting knife in defence, while upon the other arm of the muscular negro, hung the trembling form of the stranger's sickly wife. A few moments and Dick was beside the combatants, inquiring the cause of their hostile attitude. When Sam informed him that the stranger had twice, with his fist, felled the woman to the earth, his rifle raised instinctively to his shoulder, as if justice demanded instant and dreadful punishment for such a dastard act. Dick slowly remarked, as he directed his aim--“I'll sarve you out, you infernal _savage!_” [Illustration: 0341]