Beadle's Dime Novels No. 153: Mohawk Nat — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

14 : MOHAWK NAT. see I’m a far-away cousin of old Captain Church, an’ I don't s'pose I shall ever git old Ben’s blood out of my veins. He was a born Injin-fighter, an’ I like it, some.” “Tt’s only a tramp of a dozen miles and back,” said the captain. “ Come on, boys.” The men rose; and followed him ata quick pace. Mohawk Nat walked by his side, stretching his long legs in a manner which fereed even Lewis Miller to. step out, in order to keep up with him. The men straggled along in the rear, speaking only in low tones, for they were practiced foresters, and knew the subtlety of their enemies. The ground over which they passed soon after Jeaving tlie main river became broken, and then they reached Canada creck, whose black waters glided down to join the Mohawk. The Indians firmiy believed that this stream was baleful to the white man. Its darkness, its silent flow were warnings to-him. Nat stooped, and took a little water in his hand. “ Ye see how black it was afore I lifted it,’ he said, watch- — -ing the bright drops as: they trickled through his fingers, “but the minnit the water touches a white man, it turns white. It-don’t look so in an Injin’s band, nor yet anigger’s, Ye may laugh, but it’s so /” “ How do you account for it, Nat?” asked Lewis. — “ Easy enough. The white men ar goin’ to hev it some day, an’ the Injins must go.” “Jt does not need a: prophst to--tell: that,”. said Lewis. | “ White men will have the sway. Providence never designed this goodly land to be given up to savages and wild beasts.” “T don’t know so much about Providence,” said Nat “ But we've got the best weepons ; an’ if you watch things ez they soople, Injins is, I grant ye; soople an’ spry, but they ain't strong. Leastways, not many of ‘em, an’ they'll bev to go down, in the long rum. They like rum too well, for an- other thing. Tl risk anybody bein’ strong long, that kin drink New England ram. It’s a awful bew’ridge, fit only for a Nantuck fisherman, who eats clams, shells and innards.” . “You are right, Nat. A man must have a cast-iron sto- mach to endure rum-drinking.” comic oolks.conn ?