At this Dave gave a sigh of relief. But immediately his heart sank, at the thought of the news he had to impart to his friend.
"The Indians are rising, all over this section of the country. They attacked your cabin."
"My cabin!" The Englishman could scarcely utter the words. "Davy, is it the truth? And what of my wife—tell me quickly!"
"Your wife is safe, although she got an arrow through the shoulder. The redskins attacked the cabin and set fire to it. She leaped out of a rear window and hid in the milk-house. Henry and I came up just in time to get her into the woods. We ran as far as we could and then she fainted. Henry said he would stay with her and told me to come on and give the alarm. We were afraid the Indians had attacked our place, although we didn't hear any shooting or see any fire."
"Then the cabin is destroyed? But never mind that. You are sure the wound wasn't fatal?"
"Quite sure, for Henry dressed it as well as he could. But she was very weak from having been in the water under the milk-house floor so long."
"And where are they now?"
"About a mile or more from here—in that direction. But you want to be careful. There are Indians all around here—one band is over yonder holding a war talk—and I'm sure they'll show you no mercy if they catch you."
The Englishman nodded his head half a dozen times. "I know it, lad, I know it. They are a bloodthirsty set. Sometimes I am sorry I came to this country to settle among them. But times were bad with us in old England, and we had to do something. But you'll take me to my wife, won't you, that's a brave lad."
"I—I don't know," faltered Dave. He was still anxious to go home. "Perhaps you can find them alone."