Thunder, de big Injun we hears de white hunters talk so
much about. Dey say he blacked his face wid gunpowder when he fus'
started out a-fightin', an' ain't neber gwine to wash it off tel he's
got 'nough uf us white folks's skelps to rig up his huntin'-shirt an'
make it fine. I jes' as soon de ol' Scratch git de grips uf his clutches
on our little master, as dat Black Thunder. It's 'you tickle me an' I
tickle you' betwixt him an' de ol' Scratch. O you ol' Black Thunder!"
with a sudden burst of energy, apostrophizing the absent brave; "jes'
let de Fightin' Nigger git de whites uf his eyes on yo' red ugliness
once, he'll give you thunder--gunpowder thunder, he will. Jes' let Betsy
Grumbo git her muzzle on yo' red ugliness once, may be she won't bark
an' bite! May be she won't make yo' fine feathers fly! May be she won't,
now! O plague yo' red hide! Yug, yug, yug!" And with this terrible
malediction, the black giant shook his mighty fist at the foot-prints of
the red giant in the mud--Grumbo catching his master's spirit, and
giving the echo in a deep savage growl.

Having lost but a few moments in making these observations, with renewed
spirit and vigor they resumed the pursuit. Burl now felt confident that
the chances of war were decidedly in their favor, let them but come upon
the enemy under screen of night and undiscovered; and for more than this
he would not ask, to bring his war-path to a brilliant end. Ever and
anon, after they trudged on for a mile or two, Grumbo, fetching a
harder sniff than usual, would give one of his quick, low yelps of
satisfaction--when his master would know that at such places the
Indians, after carrying their little captive for some distance, to rest
his young limbs a bit, had here set him down again to walk. This usually
happened on their reaching the tops of the higher hills, or the heads of
the longer and more rugged hollows. Whenever they came to where the
ground was moist and the trail was left distinctly marked, Burl always
noticed that the boy's foot-prints were nearest those of the
slender-footed Indian, as if they had walked together side by side; and
by certain signs, similar to those he had observed at the first brook,
he knew that the same hand had carried the little fellow over all the
streams which ran across the trail. Nothing further happened to break
the monotony of the tramp till, after having left full many a mile of
tangled forest behind them, they came, late in the day,