Quite beyond gunshot range, but near enough for Oncle Jazon to
recognize Long-Hair as their leader, the Indians halted and began
making signs to one another all round the line. Evidently they
dreaded to test the marksmanship of such riflemen as they knew
most border men to be. Indeed, Long-Hair had personal knowledge of
what might certainly be expected from both Kenton and Oncle Jazon;
they were terrible when out for fight; the red warriors from
Georgia to the great lakes had heard of them; their names smacked
of tragedy. Nor was Beverley without fame among Long-Hair's
followers, who had listened to the story of his fighting
qualities, brought to Vincennes by the two survivors of the
scouting party so cleverly defeated by him.
"The liver-colored cowards," said Kenton, "are afeared of us in a
shootin'-match; they know that a lot of 'em would have to die if
they should undertake an open fight with us. It's some sort of a
sneakin' game they are studyin' about just now."
"I'm a gittin' mos' too ole to shoot wo'th a cent," said Oncle
Jazon, "but I'd give half o' my scalp ef thet Long-Hair would come
clost enough fo' me to git a bead onto his lef' eye. It's tol'ble
plain 'at we're gone goslins this time, I'm thinkin'; still it'd
be mighty satisfyin' if I could plug out a lef' eye or two 'fore I
go."
Beverley was silent; the words of his companions were heard by
him, but not noticed.
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