“The child comes from the Great Spirit,” the Indian said.
Mrs. Dare replied quietly, “Truly, Ranteo, the Great Spirit sent her. She is his, but he has given her to us for a while. You will be her friend always, won’t you? If anything should happen to me, I tremble to think what would become of my baby.”
Ranteo did not speak, but he took the baby’s wee hand and laid it against his forehead, then pressed it to his lips, and made a vow which he never forgot. Nor did he forget those words, “She is His.”
Howe had been weighing several plans in his mind. At last he was resolved, and stepped in, saying, “Ranteo, come with me.”
“Ranteo’s work will be to carry the white lady and the Great Spirit’s baby to Manteo’s wigwam,” was the reply.
“Thank you, Ranteo, we will be very glad to have you, both baby and I,” Mrs. Dare said in her sweet way; but glancing at Howe’s face she stopped suddenly and asked, “What is wrong, do tell me.”
“I might as well,” replied Howe. “Barnes has made himself governor, and decrees that all Indians shall die, and the white men shall not go to Croatoan.”
Mrs. Dare clasped her hands in horror, but the Indian showed no sign of surprise or fear, and Howe continued, “There is no time to lose; come, Ranteo, and don’t lay up all these shameful things against our whole race.”
Without a word, Ranteo took from his belt the small soft skin of a white rabbit, and laid it on the cradle, then followed Howe. Long before Barnes and his men had finished their discussion, Ranteo had slipped off in the stillness of the night, wondering in a stupid sort of a way why white men were so unlike each other, that a child had risked her life to save him from being shot when carrying a warning of danger and an offer of hospitality, and that after delivering both, his life was still so unsafe that he had to be smuggled away quietly. As his canoe glided quietly over the dark water, he was glad the pale-faces were far behind, but he wished that sweet, blue-eyed papoose had a red skin.
After seeing Ranteo’s canoe safely out of sight, Howe turned back toward the line of moving torches, which showed where the huts were. As he saw them moving he decided the council must be over, and work of some kind begun. “God only knows what those villains will be up to next. Barnes hates me. It will be better for him not to know that I had anything to do with Ranteo’s escape. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking me in his place, and I shall be needed by the women and children. It’s little consideration they’ll have while that brute is self-imposed governor of the colony,” he said as he hurried on.