“I wish I had gone right back to the post after I was sure the notice was a forgery. I might have put father more on guard. But the soldiers were going out and I thought it would be a fine thing to go with them. So I went, and so did Henry.”
“I heard down to Will’s Creek ye was in the fight at Great Meadows and both got shot.”
“Yes. Henry is still very ill, but I’m all right.” Dave paused a moment. “But you look tired out. Come to the house. They’ll all be glad to see you.”
Barringford was more than willing, for he had been bound for the homestead, to tell the news and get a good and much needed rest. His coming proved an event and for the balance of that day all work about the place was suspended. He had to go into all the details of the battle at the trading-post and tell all he knew of what had happened later, and answer questions innumerable. In the meantime Mrs. Morris prepared for him a hearty dinner and Joseph Morris poured for the old hunter a mug of the best liquor his little store afforded.
The news brought a gloom that could not be dispelled. Mrs. Morris cried not a little and so did Nell, and Dave often found a lump rising in his throat which was difficult to swallow. Joseph Morris stalked around with his hands behind him, thinking deeply, while Rodney and Henry, both propped up in rush chairs, exchanged glances which were far from happy.
“The loss of the post, with all the money we had in it, is bad enough,” observed Joseph Morris. “But I would willingly lose that and this place too, if only brother James was restored to us.”
“Yes, yes,” returned Mrs. Morris. “The money is nothing. But poor Dave——” She could not go on and hid her face in her apron. Then she walked to the boy and threw her arms around his neck. “Never mind, Dave,” she said earnestly. “If—if your father should not come back, remember you’ll always have a home here, and your uncle and I will be father and mother to you.”
“I know that, Aunt Lucy,—you’ve been a mother to me right along. But father—oh, I must find him, if he’s alive!”
“But you can’t do anything, lad,” put in Joseph Morris. “I’ve been thinking of it. We can’t march against the Indians and French alone.”
“Washington is going west again before long. We can go then. But father may be dead long before that—if he isn’t dead already!”