“But, colonel, can nothing be done to rescue her?” asked the aged father, in despair.
“Why, General, you see it’s a bad time for to do any thing. Within twenty-four hours the Injuns will be around us thick as bees round a hive. We’ll have our hands full to attend to the savages and keep their paws off our top-knots. I feel right bad for you, General, but you know our first duty is to the helpless she-critters and young ’uns hyer. We can’t let ’em be massacred right afore our eyes, you know. We’ve got to whip the red devils fust; then we’ll do what we can toward saving your little gal.”
“You are right, Boone,” said the old soldier, sadly; “the safety of the whole settlement can not be put in peril for the sake of my private grief. I must bow in submission to the will of Heaven, though my affliction is sore.”
“General, I feel for you, but duty you know is duty,” said Boone, slowly.
“Heaven forbid that I should say a single word to swerve you from the path of duty. I am too old a soldier to counsel you to do wrong,” said the old man, quickly.
“Besides, General, I think about the best blow that we can strike for your daughter’s rescue is to whip the red heathens that are coming ag’in’ us. When we drive ’em back, then we can follow them up, and perhaps be able to snake the little gal out of their hands.” Boone was trying by his words to lift the weight of sorrow that pressed so heavily upon the heart of the old soldier.
The father shook his head sorrowfully. He had little hope of ever seeing his daughter again.
He knew the nature of the red-men well. If defeated in their attack on the station, they would be apt in their rage to avenge their defeat by giving any helpless prisoner that might be in their hands to the fiery torture of death at the stake. No wonder that the father’s heart was sad.
“How many men have come in, Jake?” questioned the old hunter.
“We’ve got nigh onto two hundred, all told,” replied the sturdy Indian-fighter.