I sunk them in the spring." "It's a pretty deep hole," said Zane, reflectively.

"Then, you and the dog took Girty's trail, but couldn't catch up with him.

He's now with the renegade cutthroats and hundreds of riled Indians over there in the Village of Peace." "I reckon you're right." A long silence ensued.

Jonathan finished his simple repast, drank from the little spring that trickled under the stone, and, sitting down by the dog, smoothed out his long silken hair.
"Lew, we're pretty good friends, ain't we ?" he asked, thoughtfully.
"Jack, you an' the colonel are all the friends I ever hed, 'ceptin' that boy lyin' quiet back there in the woods." "I know you pretty well, and ain't sayin' a word about your runnin' off from me on many a hunt, but I want to speak plain about this fellow Girty." "Wal ?" said Wetzel, as Zane hesitated.
"Twice in the last few years you and I have had it in for the same men, both white-livered traitors.

You remember?
First it was Miller, who tried to ruin my sister Betty, and next it was Jim Girty, who murdered our old friend, as good an old man as ever wore moccasins.
Wal, after Miller ran off from the fort, we trailed him down to the river, and I points across and says, 'You or me ?' and you says, 'Me.' You was Betty's friend, and I knew she'd be avenged.