Another interval followed in which neither spoke. Jeff was slowly
pursuing his line of thought. After Joe's last remark he returned
his pipe to his pocket and brought out a tobacco-pouch. He tore off
a large portion of the weed and thrust it into his mouth. Then he
held out the little buckskin sack to Joe.

"Hev' a chaw," he said.

To offer tobacco to anyone was absolutely a borderman's guarantee of
friendliness toward that person.

Jeff expectorated half a dozen times, each time coming a little
nearer the stone he was aiming at, some five yards distant. Possibly
this was the borderman's way of oiling up his conversational
machinery. At all events, he commenced to talk.

"Yer brother's goin' to preach out here, ain't he? Preachin' is all
right, I'll allow; but I'm kinder doubtful about preachin' to
redskins. Howsumever, I've knowed Injuns who are good fellows, and
there's no tellin'. What are ye goin' in fer--farmin'?"

"No, I wouldn't make a good farmer."

"Jest cum out kinder wild like, eh?" rejoined Jeff, knowingly.

"I wanted to come West because I was tired of tame life. I love the
forest; I want to fish and hunt; and I think I'd like to--to see
Indians."