ain't got the land-grabber's point of view! Nor the canting
hypocrite's point of view! Nor a thick-headed forest-runner's point of
view!" he loudly stormed, rising to end the discussion.

But I was not to be balked, and I reminded him:

"I called to pay my respects to Mistress Dale. I hope I may have the
pleasure."

"She's in the field back of the house. I'll call her," he grumbled. "I
have a man in my kitchen, a white man, who has lived with the Indians ever
since he was a boy. He knows more about them than all you border-folks
could learn in a million years. He's the most sensible white man I ever
met. He agrees with me perfectly that trade is what the Indian wants; not
settlers nor Bibles."

"Your guest would be John Ward!" I exclaimed, remembering the governor's
errand. "I was asked by Colonel Lewis to find him and send him to
Richfield. The colonel and Governor Dunmore wish to talk with him."

"Ho! Ho! That's the way the cat jumps, eh? Want to milk him for military
information, eh? Well, I reckon I'll go along with him and see they don't
play no tricks on him. I've taken a strong liking to Ward. He's the one
white man that's got my point of view."

"He lived with the Indians so long he may have the Indians' point of
view," I warned.

"The sooner white men learn the Indians' point of view the better it'll be
for both white and red. Ward knows the Indians well enough to know I'm
their friend. He knows I'm more'n welcome in any of their towns. I'm going
to carry a talk to Cornstalk and Black Hoof. If I can't stop this war I
can fix it so's there'll never be any doubt who's to blame for it."

"I tell you, Dale, that no white men, except it be Ward or Tavenor Ross
and others like them, are safe for a minute with Logan's Cayugas,
Cornstalk's Shawnees, Red Hawk's Delawares, or Chiyawee's Wyandots."

"Three years ain't even made a tomahawk improvement on you," he sneered.
"You mean to tell me that after all my years of friendship with the
Indians I won't be safe among them, or that any friends I take along won't
be safe among them? You talk worse'n a fool! I can send my girl alone into
the Scioto villages, and once she gives belts from me she will be as safe
as she would be in Williamsburg or Norfolk."

"Such talk is madness," I cried. "The one message your cousin, Patrick
Davis' wife, on Howard's Creek, asked me to deliver to your daughter is
for her not to cross the mountains until the Indian trouble is over."