Now, captain, I war never superstitious in my life,--but I go my death on the Jibbenainosay! I never seed the creatur' himself, but I have seen, in my time, two different savages of his killing.

It's a sure sign, if you see him in the woods, that thar's Injuns at hand: and it's a good sign when you find his mark without seeing himself, for then you may be sure the brutes are off,--for they can't stand old Nick of the Woods no how! At first, he war never h'ard of afar from our station; but he has begun to widen his range.

Last year he left his marks down Salt River in Jefferson; and now, you see, he is striking game north of the Kentucky; and I've h'ard of them that say he kills Shawnees even in their own country; though consarning _that_ I'll not be so partickelar.

No, no, Captain, thar's no mistake in Nick of the Woods; and if you are so minded, we will go and h'ar the whole news of him.

But, I say, Tom," continued the Kentuckian, as the three left the porch together, "who brought the news ?" "Captain Ralph,--Roaring Ralph Stackpole," replied Tom Bruce, with a knowing and humorous look.
"What!" cried the father, in sudden alarm; "Look to the horses, Tom!" "I will," said the youth, laughing: "it war no sooner known that Captain Ralph war among us than it was resolved to have six Regulators in the range all night! Thar's some of these new colts (not to speak of our own creaturs), and especially that blooded brown beast of the captain's, which the nigger calls Brown Briery, or some such name, would set a better man than Roaring Ralph Stackpole's mouth watering." "And who," said Roland, "is Roaring Ralph Stackpole?
and what has he to do with Brown Briarens ?" "A proper fellow as ever you saw," replied Tom, approvingly;--"killed two Injuns once, single-handed, on Bear-Grass, and has stolen more horses from them than ar' another man in Kentucky.