What was that emotion? Was it a response to my own great passion? What else could it be? Encouraged by the certainty that the latter was the case, I urged my suit with redoubled ardor. I pictured the happiness that would be hers in a civilized country, and the utter misery that must follow her life among the savages. She informed me that she was a captive, not of the tribe near at hand, but of one further north, which had held her ever since the massacre of her parents; and that she had been told, in case she attempted to leave them, instant death would be the result. I saw she wished—she longed to flee, and the objections she offered were only suggested by her fears.
“Hist!” she whispered, “there is some one.”
I turned on the defensive. In an instant Jim stood beside me.
“How soon goin’?” he asked, anxiously, turning toward me.
“Shortly; why do you ask?”
“Day clus comin’, and if you cotched, no use!” he replied, meaningly.
“I was not aware, Jim, that I had enemies among you.”
“You hain’t; but—”
The rest of the sentence was gesticulated, first pointing to me and the fair one beside me.
“Do you not understand?” asked the latter. “There are several in the tribe who look upon me with envious eyes, and were they conscious that you knew of my existence, you would not be spared a moment. This is what Jim means, and his words must be heeded.”