a long way further west thin I keer 'bout bein'. Ol' Vermont is plenty
good 'nough fer this chicken, an' many 's ther day I wish I was back
ther. But I hed a cousin onct who tuk ter sojerin' 'long with Gineral
Clarke, an' went 'cross them ther prairies ter git Vincennes frum the
British. Lor'! it must a' bin more ner thirty year ago! He tol' me
thet they jist hed ter wade up ter ther neck in water fer days an'
days. I ain't so durn fond o' water as all thet. An' he said as how
rattlesnakes was everywhere; an' ther Injuns was mos' twice es big es
they be yere."

"But Clarke, and nearly all of his men, got back safely," I protested.

"Oh, I guess some on 'em got back, 'cause they was an awful lot in thet
army, mighty nigh two thousand on 'em, Ephriam said; but, I tell ye,
they hed a most terrible tough time afore they did git hum. I seed my
cousin whin he kim back, an' he was jist a mere shadder; though he was
bigger ner you whin he went 'way."

"But Fort Dearborn is much farther to the north. Perhaps it will be
better up there."

"Wuss," he insisted, with a most mournful shake of the head, "a dinged
sight wuss. Ephriam said es how the further north ye wint, the tougher
it got. He saw an Injun from up near the big lake--a Pottamottamie, or
somethin' like thet--what was nine fut high, an' he told him es how the
rivers in his kintry was all full o' man-eatin' critters like snakes,
an' some on 'em hed a hundred legs ter crawl with, an' cud travel a
dinged sight faster ner a hoss. By gosh! but you bet I don't want none
on it. Your father must 'a' been plum crazy fer ter sind ye way out
ther all 'lone,--jist a green boy like you. What ye a-goin' fer,