•216 
WANDERINGS IN 
THIRD 
•TOURNEY 
to the end of the rope. Nothing now remained to 
do, but to get him out of the water without injuring 
his scales, u hoc opus, hie labor.” We mustered 
strong : there were three Indians from the creek, 
there was my own Indian Yan, Daddy Quashi, the 
negro from Mrs. Peterson’s, James, Mr. R. Ed- 
monstone’s man, whom I was instructing to pre¬ 
serve birds, and, lastly, myself. 
I informed the Indians that it was my intention 
to draw him quietly out of the water, and then se¬ 
cure him. They looked and stared at each other, 
and said I might do it myself; but they would have 
no hand in it; the cayman would worry some of us. 
On saying this, u consedere duces,” they squatted 
on their hams with the most perfect indifference. 
The Indians of these wilds have never been sub¬ 
ject to the least restraint; and I knew enough of 
them to be aware, that if I tried to force them against 
their will, they would take off, and leave me and my 
presents unheeded, and never return. 
Daddy Quashi was for applying to our guns, as 
usual, considering them our best and safest friends. 
I immediately offered to knock him down for his 
cowardice, and he shrunk back, begging that I 
would be cautious, and not get myself worried; and 
apologizing for his own want of resolution. My 
Indian was now in conversation with the others, and 
they asked me if I would allow them to shoot a dozen 
arrows into him, and thus disable him. This would 
have ruined all. I had come above three hundred 
miles on purpose to get a cayman uninjured, and not 
