"Oh, no; there were several servants, and I saw them tomahawked, and heard their piercing cries."
The captive covered her face, and her frame shook like an aspen at the remembrance of the dreadful scenes through which she had so recently passed. It was several minutes before she recovered her self-command. When she did, Hans Vanderbum proceeded with his questions.
"Dey burnt de place, I shpose?"
"Yes, yes; they destroyed everything."
"I shpose your folks will feel bad when dey finds dese Shawnees have got you, won't dey?"
"Oh, yes, yes; do not speak of it."
At this point Hans Vanderbum began to get a sort of dim, vague idea that his style of conversation was not exactly calculated to soothe the feelings of the unfortunate prisoner; so he determined, if possible, to make amends for it. Patting her on the head, he said, gently:
"Don't feel bad, my darling; I ish shorry for you, but I wants to ax you anoder question."
"What is it?" queried the maid, with a wondering look.
"Will you answer it?" asked Hans Vanderbum, endeavoring to put on an arch, quizzical expression.