Mrs. Ripley, like her son, meant to keep the name of their friend from these men. There was no danger of either her or Ben telling it; but neither thought of another means they had of learning it.
At this point, Alice went to her mother and leaned against her knees, with her gaze on the faces of the men. She had been standing beside Linna, whose eyes were never once removed from the displeasing countenance of Zitner.
She must have noticed the incident referred to, for the expression on her round face was of dislike and distrust. She stood further off from the men than anyone else—silent, watchful, and suspicious.
Zitner now looked at her.
"Come here," he said coaxingly, extending his hand.
"No; me won't. Me don't like you," she replied, with an angry flirt and backward step.
"Jingo!" exclaimed the surprised Zitner; "I didn't think she could talk our lingo. Say, Miss Spitfire, what is your father's name?"
Before either Mrs. Ripley or her son could interpose, Linna answered defiantly—"He Omas—great warrior—kill good many white people—kill you!"
The reply caused consternation on the part of Mrs. Ripley and Ben, but the boy shut his lips tight. He could not but admire the bravery of the child, and he was determined to stand by her to the end.
The mother was in despair, but she relied mainly on persuasion and prayer.