"I don't see why Indians take to whiskey so readily. It is a curse to
all the redskins I ever knew."

"It is a curse to any man, red or white."

"I never saw a white man drunk."

"Your experience has been very limited, Phil Farringford."

"That's very true. I never saw much of the world, but I hope to see
more of it one of these days. What do you suppose these Indians will do
when they become sober?" I asked.

"No doubt they will try to get back their horses. They came down for
more, and they go back with fewer, unless they can recover them. If
they behave themselves we will let them have their own horses. We don't
want them."

"They are nothing but skin and bones."

"Very likely they are good horses, but they have been starved and
overridden."

"Old Matt won't care about filling them out, for we haven't more than
grain enough to carry us through. I suppose we shall see these redskins
again by to-morrow."

"Perhaps not; they may go to their village first, and return with more
men."

"Well, we won't borrow any trouble about them. When they come we will
take care of them. We shall be obliged to watch our horses after this;
for I would rather shoot old Firefly than have him abused by those
redskins."

"They are not worthy to possess so noble an animal as the horse. But,
after all, the white man is more to blame for their present degraded
condition than they are themselves. Out of the reach of the vices of
civilization there are still noble red men."

"I never saw any of them," I added, rather incredulously.

We continued on our way through the solemn forest, and by the side of
the rolling river. Old Firefly and Cracker were ahead of us, but we
could hear the tramp of their feet, and were satisfied that they were
on the right track. When we reached the Castle, we found them patiently
waiting at the stable for our arrival. I opened the door for them, and
they returned to their quarters with a satisfaction which they could
not express. As our stock of hay was nearly expended, we had room
enough in the barn for the two Indian horses. I fed all the animals
alike, for it was not the fault of the strangers that they kept bad
company.

Old Matt had gone to bed when we went into the house, but he wanted to
know all about our adventures; and, when I had told him the story, I
was pleased to hear him say that I had done well. Late as it was, Mr.
Mellowtone insisted upon returning to his home on the island, two miles