“Just the thing,” said Captain Howard, cordially,—then with an afterthought,—“but this deprives you of a handsome curiosity, ornamented for royalty. You may borrow it, Arabella.”
“Oh, but I’d love to own it,” cried Miss Howard, joyously, with a charming frankness that made the color deepen in Raymond’s cheek. “I’ll carry it home and shoot with it at the next archery meet. I hope it is very barbaric and splendid in its decorations, Mr. Raymond.”
“I think it will not disappoint you,” replied Raymond, in a glow of enthusiasm, for it was a choice bit of aboriginal art; the Indians often spent years of labor on the ornamentation of a single weapon. “It carries all the gewgaws that it can without impairing the elasticity of the wood, but the quiver is more gorgeous; the arrows are winged with flamingo feathers, and tipped with crystal quartz.”
“Oh,” began Arabella—
But her father’s admonitions broke in upon her delight. “Those arrows are deadly,” he exclaimed, “as hard as steel. And you must be careful how you place your target; you might shoot some animal, or a soldier; you must be careful.”
“What a forlorn fate for a soldier—to die by a lady’s hand!” she exclaimed.
“Ladies usually shoot by proxy,” Raymond said, with a conscious laugh, “and first and last they have done woful execution among soldiers.”
“They never shoot by proxy at our club,” declared Arabella, densely.
“That’s mighty good of them,” said her father, laughing a little, as he turned to look at the shore. He ordered the oarsmen to pull in, despite the fact that no signs of life were yet visible about the town.
When, however, the keel grazed the gravelly bank and Captain Howard and his quarter-master and fort-adjutant stepped on shore, there appeared as suddenly as if he had risen from the ground the “second man” of Keowee Town, attended by three or four of inferior rank, a trifle sullen, very silent, and when he spoke at last, after he had led the way to the municipal booth, or cabin, he was full of ungracious excuses for the non-appearance of the chief to greet the English Capteny. He had thought the boat held only the quarter-master, the fort’s “second man”—“Confound his impudence!” interpolated that officer, an observation which the discreet interpreter did not see fit to repeat,—the fort’s “second man,” come to beg for corn. The British, he continued, were pleased to call the Indians beggars, but no mendicant that he had ever heard whine could whine as the fort’s “second man” whined when he begged for corn.