skirts tucked up and an ax in her hand.

I made no effort to talk with Patsy. Her frame of mind was too exalted for
speech with a skeptical worm. She smiled kindly on me, much as a goddess
designs to sweeten the life of a mortal with a glance. She smiled in
gentle rebuke as she noted my torn and stained garments and the moccasins
so sadly in need of patching.

"You silly boy! It wasn't necessary. When will you learn, Morris?" It was
not intended that I should answer this, for she turned away graciously to
receive the blessings of the women. Thus, vicariously, was Ericus Dale
recognized as a great man. And the trader walked among the morning clouds.
For some hours the savor of his triumph stifled speech, and he wandered
about while the women paid their tribute through his daughter.

Nor were the men lacking in appreciation. The younger generation remained
silent, secretly wishing their bravery and marksmanship had scattered the
foe, yet unable to deny that Dale's medicine had been very powerful. Those
with families stared upon him as they might gaze on one who had looked on
David.

They congregated around the Davis cabin after the morning meal and forgot
there was much work to be done. They were eager to renew their fires of
this new faith by listening to him. And after his exaltation had softened
enough to permit of speech the trader once more harangued them on his
influence over the natives. He was constantly in motion, his swinging arms
keeping a path clear as he strode through the group and back again and
addressed the mountains and horizon. He was too full of the sweets of a
peaceful victory to confine his utterance to any individual, and he spoke
to the whole frontier.

He concluded a long and eloquent speech by saying:

"So after all, as you settlers have learned, the Ohio tribes, yes, and all
tribes, will always hark to the one word--trade. They are now dependent
upon the white man for traps and guns, even their women's clothing. Trade
with them and they will remain your friends, for your goods they must
have.

"You can plant your war-posts three feet apart along the whole length of
Virginia, and you'll always have work for your rifles and axes until the
last Indian-hunter is killed. I admit they can be exterminated, but you'll
pay an awful price in doing it. But give them a chance to live, carry
trade-belts to them, and you shall have peace."

Even Uncle Dick, the aged one, had nothing to say. But it was