COLBY
(calling).
How comes the salt, Rigdon? If 'twere not that these licks give it in
such abundance, 'twould try a lad's patience sorely. 'Tis like a girl's
work--tending kettles! And hardly a man's work--carrying water from a
spring. (Puts down pail of water.) 'Faith, my arms are stiff, and my
fingers also! If an Indian sprang at me from a thicket I could not so
much as cock my gun! What shall I do next? Carry more water? The rest
are still drawing it--_more_ girl's work, if you'll leave me call it
so! (As a slight sound is heard at left.) Heaven's mercy! What's that?
(Seizes gun.) Is it Indians?

BOONE
(quietly approaching from left).
And if it were, would your work be only _girl's_ work, Colby? It shows
you but a foolish lad to speak of it thus lightly. With all
Boonesborough in need of salt, with our cattle and horses
half-perishing for the want of it, with the way that lies to the licks
a very wilderness road for danger, 'twould hardly be called girl's work
to tend these kettles--brave as our frontier women are. 'Tis _men's_
work, Colby, although you be but lads who do it.

RIGDON.
The wilderness makes men of lads right quickly; does it not, Master
Boone?

BOONE
(seated on log).
Aye, that it does. If it were not for the stress of the times, and the
scarcity of men to keep watch, you should be back in Boonesborough, and