A few years before the French and Indian War, a surveyor for the Ohio Land Company met with Chief Tusca of a western Delaware subtribe. The surveyor bestowed upon the chief furs, trinkets and gin in exchange for a tour of the valley. His belly full of this bittersweet beverage that tasted like pine berries, the chief obliged and after some less-than-sure-footed hiking, personally led the surveyor to a steep precipice overlooking the river.
As the surveyor fixed his gaze through his spyglass, the besotted chief slipped and slid on his buttocks several feet down the sheer stony slope they had climbed, his loincloth rucking up behind him.
Oblivious to his guide’s pratfall, the surveyor inquired about the landscape still in his focus: “What call you this?”
The chief rose to his feet, rubbed his abraded backside, and replied, “Tusca . . . raw ass.”