Sheltowee, the Ingrate
DANIEL BOONE was now a Shawnee, but his fellow tribesman did not have such implicit faith in the efficacy of their own magic as to trust him completely. When he left camp, he was likely to see someone lurking along his trail. Once, when Blackfish gave him permission to turn his horse out to grass, he was secretly amused to see that the old chief had posted armed Indians to watch him from concealment. Worst of all, his little Indian sisters were set to watch him, and there is no vigilance like a child's.
Boone was careful to show every sign of contentment and went quietly about the Indian camp, whistling to himself as he usually did at home, "apparently so contented among a parcel of dirty Indians." He was, in fact, living the life he loved best. Some of his fellow prisoners were amazed and disgusted.
Blackfish and his squaw treated him with invariable affection, addressed him as "son," made no distinction between him and their two real children. They had recently lost a sonkilled, it is sometimes said, by Boone's own men in the rescue of the kidnapped girls—and Boone had now, by tribal ritual, taken his place. The other two children were little girls. One, Pom-me-pe-sy, was an ill-tempered little creature of four or five; the other, Pim-me-pe-sy, an agreeable little girl of one or two, whom Boone helped care for. With the silver trinkets Hamilton