“I wish I was home.”
“So do I, Nell—wish it more for your sake than for my own.”
“Tom wants to go out and fight the bad Indians,” said one of the twins. He had picked up a rifle resting against the wall and was trying to shoulder the long weapon.
“Here, you give me that gun!” cried Rodney, reaching for it. “Tom, you mustn’t play with the guns. One of ’em might go off and hurt you.”
“Tom ain’t ’fraid of no gun,” said the little boy. “Want to shoot the Indians.”
“You keep quiet and stay with Mrs. Dobson or Nell.”
“How long will we have to stay here, Rodney?” asked his little sister.
“I can’t answer that question, Nell. It depends on the Indians. Perhaps they’ll get tired of watching us and go away.”
It was a hard matter to keep the twins quiet, but presently both grew tired of wandering around the cave, and went to sleep on a pair of blankets spread out for them. Mrs. Dobson sat on one of the packs with Nell beside her and her husband not far off.
“Oh, Asa, how foolish we were to come out to this western country!” sighed the woman, for at least the fiftieth time. “We should have stayed at home and been content with what we had!”