“Hurry out an’ look around, some of you,” said Will Revel, quickly. “Mebbe thar’s others near.”
“None but me,” said the captive, in fair English.
All, except Hulet, gazed upon her curiously. The girl was an Indian beauty, apparently about eighteen years of age. She was above the medium hight, and the color of her skin showed that white blood ran in her veins. She wore beautiful moccasins upon her feet, and was dressed tastefully. Her hair was glossy, black and fine, falling around her shoulders in masses, though kept back from her forehead by a glittering silver band. At her back was a bow and quiver of arrows; while a light hatchet and a knife were pendent from either side of her waist. She confronted the rangers without showing a sign of fear, though evidently embarrassed.
“Why’ve ye come here, Injun girl?” asked Revel. “If it’s to do us harm, you’re very foolish.”
“No come for that,” she said, earnestly.
“How’d ye know we war here?”
“Didn’t know. Looked sharp—den find you. Come for do good. Injuns that way,” pointing toward the lake. “You git scalps took if not careful.”
“Hear dthat now!” muttered the Irishman.
“Why’d ye come to warn us?” asked Revel. “Ain’t ye afraid we’ll harm ye?”
“Not much,” answered the Indian girl, dropping her eyes. “If did, would not come. Moorooine loves the white race. Some bad, some good—so everywhere. But Moorooine loves them and warns them. Some white herself, too.”