at the old
village of Chillicothe, there were a few minutes when Daniel Boone and
Peleg and several of their comrades were left together in the wigwam
into which they had been thrust.
"Peleg," said Daniel Boone in a low voice, "what a mistake our enemies
have made."
"What do you mean?" inquired Peleg quickly.
"If they had taken us to Boonesborough or to Logan's Fort and there had
shown us to the settlers they could have demanded almost any price they
might choose for our ransom."
"Will they not do it yet?" inquired Peleg.
"I hardly think so," replied the scout, shaking his head. "The Indians
are like children in many ways. When they have been successful, either
on the warpath or in the chase, they immediately return to their friends
to celebrate their good fortune with them. They are easily elated, and
are almost childish in seeking the praise of those whose opinions they
value. That is the reason why they have come back to the village with
their twenty-eight prisoners."
"What will happen to us?" inquired Peleg anxiously.
"That no man can say. All that I am sure of is that we must bear
whatever comes in the spirit of those who know that it is the best thing
that could happen for every one of us."
"If they burn us at the stake?" inquired Peleg bitterly.
"Yes, even if they burn us at the stake. It will be hard to bear if they
do that, but I am not without hope that they will adopt some other
course."
"They may make us run the gauntlet."
"Yes, they may," admitted Boone, "but there is one thing, Peleg, we do
not have to do."
"What is that, sir?"
"We do not have to bear anything before it comes. All that any man can
do is to prepare for what may befall him, and then, whatever comes, bear
it like a man. But he who worries over his troubles before they arrive
is in no condition to bear them after they come."
"I know that is your way of thinking," said Peleg, "but I have not
learned it yet."
"That's the correct word, Peleg."
"What word?" inquired the younger scout quickly.
"The word 'learned,' No one has it at the beginning of his life. Even
Preacher Lythe told us one time that he, like Paul, 'learned' in
whatsoever state he was, therewith to be content."
"So have you!" said Peleg cordially.
Boone smiled and shook his head as he replied: "I have learned not to
reveal all my feelings. Beyond that I cannot say. But I am so fully
convinced that whatever befalls me in this life is part o
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